The Steak Place

Do you do steak places? I find it massively depersonalizing during holidays - it's so dark in there, the service is so militaristically good I feel guilty immediately, it's always just me and dad at Hy's or Morton's, he tries to be very civil, but he can't stop talking about money or power, something bigoted and rude sometimes slips out, we both have substance problems we don't even try to hide. He drops well over a bill everytime on just meat and potatoes for two and tonight, after saying he probably won't be home for Christmas, he tried to give me something like four grand all in crisp hundreds in a company envelope, and again I say no, for what? but I take five bills because he looks genuinely hurt and ready to fuck me up if I don't take anything and whatever it's five bills. During childhood it was Salvation Army preschool in East Van - I have no absolutely no concept of when or how things changed to all this so unsurprisingly all I have ever felt is vague but intense guilt and confusion about anything related to chee$e, have never felt that real ass ROOTEDNESS to any chunk of any city/scene. I torture myself daily to try to live off my own hands, be super respectful to friends and women - but after a night at the steak place, my bearings are shot, there's one gap in my lower chompers that always gets caught up with sinew, throbbing, and I still have no idea where I fit in this world. I drive a gold SUV to ghetto art shows, I smoke cigs after the gym, I try talking to good girls after hanging with psychotic powder pushers - I think I'm a real, decent person, but I don't seem to exist in any understandable form, even for me.

Steak places. They're funny like that. How do you like yours?