The Art of Love in an Elevator

have you ever found yourself staring at someone wondering what where they thinking when they got up this morning?

technically you can get up whenever you want in a day, somewhere in the world it’s morning.

people in the morning.

people in mourning.

i’m rarely in the mood for mourning in the morning.

afternoons, now that i can fully get behind.

not mourning in the afternoon.

as a general rule of thumb, mourning is nothing to get behind.

although getting in front would be nothing to shoot for.

well, your parents are hippies.

who needs to drive when you can drink?

drink until you feel nothing.

although feeling nothing is akin to death.

and death is nothing to shoot for.

it never hurts to take a shot.

it hurts to get shot.

and if you do too many shots, down you go.

but what do i know?

this week in jenna theater, jenna is in the elevator heading down to the bottom floor of her building from the 23rd floor. a small child gets on by himself at the 22nd floor and proceeds to hit every single button on the elevator. he leaves at floor 20. a man gets on at floor 19 and looks at the buttons all lit up and then looks at jenna.
jenna- i didn’t do it.
(man rolls his eyes)
jenna – i swear, it was some little kid. he did it. i think it was a boy; it’s hard to tell these days with kid’s haircuts and clothes…we could go back and check the 20th floor…
(man stares at jenna who tries to look elsewhere. it is a long, long, long ride to the bottom of the building.)

you win some, you don’t win others.