i'm in los angeles today: it smells like an airport runway. jet fuel stenches in the cabin and lights flickering at random.
I spent the early Monday morning asleep under the large restaurant at LAX. Curled 'round a concrete planter with [info]bjennings76, sharing my bag as a makeshift pillow. We dozed for close to two hours on the concrete.
On our initial arrival to the airport we had scouted no available chairs in the United Terminal. In the near clutches of a small hangover, I desperately needed water. Brian walked ahead as I plodded my way down to the otherside of LAX to the Internat'l terminal. Nothing was open. I satiated myself from two small sips from the public fountain. The two of us sat and waited. That was until I decided to formulate an attack plan on the USO. With my back turned, Brian was assailed by overly enthusatic Japanese flight attendants. Emphatic arm waying and brisk bowing to all those they crossed paths with... I escaped unscathed.
i'm in los angeles today: garbage cans comprise the medians of freeways always creaping even when the population's sleeping.
Hours early in the womb of my surrogate mother (In-N-Out) I yammered on, in the full throes of what one would call drunkeness. Seated with what I considered damn fine humans, we informed, the now made known to us, Corlis, the events that transpired at Nelson's wedding. The toast given by Nelson containing, at least on the surface, the appearance of a tedium and disregard, was really what we considered a Bold-Move(tm) coming from our quiet Shadowrunning geek friend from highschool.
I wept as I cursed and frothed - saying that I would never have Nelson play the part of the adoring, aspiring-doctor in my movie but his efforts were human and so Nelson that anything else, we all agreed, would have been creepy and out-of-character. I marveled at Nelson's humanity.
I was the drunken asshole. I repeated no less than four times that Corlis was fucking hot, the word rectum, and how much I hated the friends that were in fact so zombified to me that they couldn't be reached in any sense (passion or reason). I stood on the table and exclaimed that I was an asshole (See: Swingers) before mother delivered unto me a second Double-Double. I quietly suckled the wrapper and allowed others to pass words into the ether.
I spent the early Monday morning asleep under the large restaurant at LAX. Curled 'round a concrete planter with [info]bjennings76, sharing my bag as a makeshift pillow. We dozed for close to two hours on the concrete.
On our initial arrival to the airport we had scouted no available chairs in the United Terminal. In the near clutches of a small hangover, I desperately needed water. Brian walked ahead as I plodded my way down to the otherside of LAX to the Internat'l terminal. Nothing was open. I satiated myself from two small sips from the public fountain. The two of us sat and waited. That was until I decided to formulate an attack plan on the USO. With my back turned, Brian was assailed by overly enthusatic Japanese flight attendants. Emphatic arm waying and brisk bowing to all those they crossed paths with... I escaped unscathed.
i'm in los angeles today: garbage cans comprise the medians of freeways always creaping even when the population's sleeping.
Hours early in the womb of my surrogate mother (In-N-Out) I yammered on, in the full throes of what one would call drunkeness. Seated with what I considered damn fine humans, we informed, the now made known to us, Corlis, the events that transpired at Nelson's wedding. The toast given by Nelson containing, at least on the surface, the appearance of a tedium and disregard, was really what we considered a Bold-Move(tm) coming from our quiet Shadowrunning geek friend from highschool.
I wept as I cursed and frothed - saying that I would never have Nelson play the part of the adoring, aspiring-doctor in my movie but his efforts were human and so Nelson that anything else, we all agreed, would have been creepy and out-of-character. I marveled at Nelson's humanity.
I was the drunken asshole. I repeated no less than four times that Corlis was fucking hot, the word rectum, and how much I hated the friends that were in fact so zombified to me that they couldn't be reached in any sense (passion or reason). I stood on the table and exclaimed that I was an asshole (See: Swingers) before mother delivered unto me a second Double-Double. I quietly suckled the wrapper and allowed others to pass words into the ether.
second a comment for your comment. I'm pretty excited about the glasses thing. I've worn glasses since before it was cool to have them and I'm glad to get them back... and that whole adding to the cummulative hotness (hawtness) is a plus.
when do you get back to Seattle?