Bitter Backed By Happy Bass

Some nights are uneventful. Some nights you just drink gin with your brother, sing Mountain Goats fragments, try to convince him their songs are optimistic, not bitter backed by happy bass. Real-life footage from an Iraqi documentary is your entertainment, and you feel bad about that. Ice cubes rattle in your empty glass. When there's no dialogue in the footage, just chants and gunshots, you continue conversation where you left off, and tell him your most brilliant thought of the night: dog walking is the social opposite of wearing headphones.