1. Monday, May 24, 2004

    the speakerbox in the corner is dusty 

    strands of faded confetti wave to the breezes of the occilating fan that doesnt occilate as much as you’d think it would.

    it hesitates.

    it goes to the left and hangs and blows. then it slowly moves to the right and hangs and stays there for a little longer than it should. and then it comes back.

    sorta like the the intellect of the voting public, except more rational.

    her shoe touched mine. startled, i flinched and i knocked over my water glass against my marguerita glass and some water splashed into the salsa.

    techno had replaced tango on the jukebox and in the corner someone was being sung happy birthday.

    i cant believe anything that happens to me in LA but thats why you move here.

    in a week this will be my anniversary of being here twenty years. time flies when your mind is getting blown and all i can say is the girls only get hotter and the situations only become more bizarre and theres nothing thats going to make me leave here ever.

    not even kids.

    maybe a great job. but i doubt it. nobody wants me. i dont blame em. im not like what theyre used to.

    its funny how money moves you places. its funny how we allow it all to happen to us and pretend like we dont have any choice other than to follow the end of the rainbow.

    shes redheaded. i hadnt dined with a redhead in years and now this is two in a row. sometimes its hard to tell if the ones who smile like you or just like to smile.

    titties for days and what are you supposed to do about that?

    right up there for you to look at and the question is are you supposed to look at them or not look at them.

    “we’re going to look at your tits for just a minute, ok?” i ask her.

    she doesnt stop smiling.

    “k.”

    nice. no apparent marks. i check the outline on her silk blouse for a nipple ring. cant find one. decide not to look too long. look at the fullness for padding or pushup bra-ness. not like i care. not like i give a shit if a chick has a “d” or an “a” cup. but there they are.

    hot plates the man says and serves us a wet burrito and a taco salad.

    she kicks my foot again and this time i can tell its not an accident and as hes leaving i say, senior.

    he says, yes sir.

    and i say two more margueritas por favor.

    and he says, of course sir, looking for a nipple ring too

    without asking permission first.

    blogography & roxanne had the guts to take the quiz.