Monday, 12 October 2015

Rule #87: Bar lighting

It’s a nice bar. Well appointed. Good furniture. Hot waitresses. Or maybe it's a shitty bar. It doesn’t matter.  No bar can be that nice if it includes this albatross of the bar fly.  That is…. direct lighting. Shining down from the heavens. Right into your eyes. It's like Jesus is about to slide down one of those shiny beautiful rays on a cool surfboard, with his cool hair flying back in the wind and kiss you on the forehead to say "It's alright, my son. I forgive you for all that shit you did".. But he doesn't come.... He never comes. 
So I burn my eyes out nightly for nothing. Those lights burn brightly. With no remorse. It's like they know everything I've done and the light is meant to torture me into spilling the beans. Which I sometimes do If I stay there long enough.
You can squint, pull down your cap, but whatever you do, you look silly, and the light keeps on shining.
Right.. Into.. Your.. Eyes.
And you keep squinting. All the while on the verge of confession.

In the new world, all bars will have soft, easy lighting that makes you feel like everything is going to be alright... Get off the table Mable, the money's for the beer.


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