went to a kurasawa double bill last night. nelson and i hit earl's on the ave first. had a terrible bourbon and coke. nelson had an even worse gin and tonic. plastic cups. happy hour doubles. a bar girl, a sheet or two to the wind, told anyone listening she loved van morrison, and started singing along. looked over at me during the chorus, lifted her shirt. no bra. told anyone listening i looked like matthew broderick. i tried to get the bartender's attention. she said, "bueller, bueller..." i smiled, and looked back. the shirt went up again. told anyone listening she liked to corrupt young, innocent boys. may have meant me. i pretended to blush.
"stray dog" was good. so was "drunken angel", though i left halfway through. watching too many people smoke and drink on screen. wanted a cigarette and a beer.
didn't have cigarettes. two of doc's harps in the fridge.
called in sick today, because for some reason you can't call in "i hate that fucking job".
shopping for birthday presents, maybe a movie later.
"stray dog" was good. so was "drunken angel", though i left halfway through. watching too many people smoke and drink on screen. wanted a cigarette and a beer.
didn't have cigarettes. two of doc's harps in the fridge.
called in sick today, because for some reason you can't call in "i hate that fucking job".
shopping for birthday presents, maybe a movie later.