On the morning of July 4th, I was laying in my bed in my mom's basement, scrolling through my phone while dealing with a reoccurrence of diverticulitis, when a Twitter post reminded me it was the 5th anniversary of Kevin Durant's decision to fire a Roman candle into the ass of all Oklahoma City Thunder fans, and announce he was fleeing Tornado Alley for one named after silicon instead.
Always the Internet troll / bitter scorned lover, I took about 15-seconds to send off the following tweet:
When I was a teenager, I desperately wanted to be a goth so very bad. Having controlling parents, however, the closest I could get away with were Cure cassette tapes and late-night visits to area diners, always filled with dark-souled youths smoking cloves that would never get to know me in the slightest; I’d sit in the corner, reading an utterly pretentious book, hoping someone—anyone—would talk to me.
But they never did.
Still, out of those few “after midnight” dives that were around then, my favorite was always Mama Lou’s, 1421 N. Moore Ave. in, well, Moore. Even though I was painfully ignored there too, at least they always had a cheap steak for me to nosh on after work, probably a reason not only goths, but punks and skaters as well, let me rot in my eternal loneliness…