the weekly josher

People are so fucking funny sometimes. My favorite type of people are those who have no idea that they make someone else smile or laugh or happy or sad, but they just exist in their own little narcissistic buffoon bubble, without a care in the world. The reason this is on my mind at the moment is because of this guy I watched dance at a show the other night for, I shit you not, 20 minutes. I was seeing The Wood Brothers, some honky folk Americana shit, and this fucking guy a few bodies over from me was wearing fucking sunglasses… inside. Those people always make me laugh, because… for what???? Anyway, sunglasses dude also had on one of those kappa hats, kinda like a newsboy cap but smoother if you know what I mean. Most people wear them backwards, at least this kind, but this guy did not. Anyway, this mother fucker was one of those buffoons, and I’m so gosh darn envious that that’s not me.

As I catch this guy in the act, dancing with a smidgen of rhythm and his cool hat and cool sunglasses, I immediately take out my phone to take a note because I do that sort of thing. The note reads:

White people at music events

Guy in the newsboy cap and sunglasses

HBO jacket

Tall big guy smoking weed pen, knows none of the words but is playing air guitar

Oh yeah, there’s more characters, but the sunglass hat guy set off a chain reaction of people watching and alerted the synapses or whatever in my brain to start to observe these gentlemen having the night of their fucking lives (probably because they hate their kids and this was their one night out). HBO jacket was this older gentlemen, probably in his 60s, but wouldn’t be suprised if he was younger and just ate Doritos for a livino and aged faster than his peers. He was just nodding, but had this cool HBO windbreaker that I almost asked him if I could buy it off of him. Tall big guy smoking weed pen was the head honcho of the 3. His weed pen “died” so he was chiefing off of someone else’s, blowing smoke up in the air. At one point, I have no clue what happened, but he just started sprinting through the crowd, maybe a nervous tick, who knows. But then he came back. And when he came back he brought the energy. Strumming his six stringed cargo shorts so hard that the band stopped playing (in my head) for a minute and it was just him. Ripping his air guitar on a stage, for an audience of one, me.

I write this because I think I have a problem. This scenario is one of my favorite past times or hobbies in the world. Nothing brings me more joy. Something is wrong with me, I paid good money to see that show and instead I tune out the music for 30 minutes to create stories in my mind about 3 guys who are doing normal people things at a concert where people usually play the air guitar and dance and sing along. Its people watching but also to a fault. I over analyze to the point where now, a week later, I’m sitting here typing a god damn essay about it.

This is all to say, be your fucking self, regardless of what Josh might be thinking after he’s had one too many beers and not enough gin and tonics and has to pee really bad because his bladder is small might think. I know I have a Josh out there, and I know Josh is having a good damn time doing Josh things, watching Josh fist pump 100 times in a row, counting every one, in front of him at the Phish show.

P.S. if you read this you have to Venmo me $1 @ joshuafrancis because I lost sleep over this and also because you want to, and if you don’t I’m going to assume you are feeling really guilty about not doing so the next time we cross paths.