So I go to the bourgeois pig, that’s my spot, to write my book, or edit it, rather, for the fifth time so that I can finally fucking finish this shit that I’ve been working on for five years… and so I walk into the cafe and say hi to the barista dude that’s my homie’s homie, now my homie, and head to the back when
These two chick-gypsy lookin chicks are sitting on this couch and I was like damn these chicks are madd young, or maybe I’m mad old, and I get all excited cause I’m gonna go say hi.
So I walk back and grab a table right next to them and before I even thoroughly check one of em out I see that she’s reading The Great Gatsby and I was like
YO! IM READING THAT BOOK TOO!!
It was too perfect. So we start talkin and I realize that the gypsy chick sitting next to her is her sister. They look nothing alike other than the fact they both look way too young for me to be attracted to. Anyway I ask em all sorts of questions and tell them a bit about my life, completely ignoring my homie David, the dude I was supposed to be hanging out with before I got to my writing and before these two girls swirled into my life and made me forget about my agenda.
Anyway so one sister asks me how long I been out here, in LA. I say five years and she says eight. Eight years so I was like yo, ur from Atlanta, right they were from Atlanta, and u been here eight years and ur like… Well, I mean this might be rude but fuck it- u look madd young.
She says she’s twenty-eight or twenty-six or some shit and I was like NICE! She’s not seventeen!!! So I keep talking to them, the one
sister reading The Great Gatsby who is sexy as fuck is sitting next to me, well I mean they’re both sexy as fuck, anyway the one next to me, she and I get into this dope convo about literature and travel and I ask her when she’s going back to Atlanta cause she’s only out here for thanksgiving visiting her sister– Oh wait- no I ask her what she does for work or what she is studying and with a look of ‘okay I’m about to be honest here’ she says to me, this sister, the one closest to me, she says she’s a junior in high school.
Oh fuck. I’m slightly temporarily in love with a sixteen-year-old chick or however old you are in eleventh grade.
But I don’t make a big deal outta it cause at the end of the day the convo was still dope and it’s not like being attracted to a high school girl is illegal… It just might be a REALLY bad thought structure.
Anyway after an hour or so the one sister that lives in LA, the one old enough that I could actually take out on a date, she says they gotta go to UCB to watch some comedy.
Then they leave and I’m like yo Dave, I didn’t even get their number. But… Like… She was in high school! But the other wasn’t! But- but- but- shit.
I was confused.
Whatever, forget about it.
Then I look up five mins later and the high school sister is standing right above me and asks if we could keep in contact. She had come back in to ask me that.
So the point of this story is I gave a high school girl my number and I was excited about it which makes me either disgusting or human.
Anyway that’s what happened last night and HERE’S what it’s like being a drugdealer (well, pot) in NYC.