Sunday, February 28, 2010
No mugs in the cabinet. Check dishwasher. Six clean ones. Know my wife is going to want coffee too, so the normal thing to do would be to take out two mugs at the very least -- and even this would be a lil niggardly. But the thing is, I only need one mug. And if I just help myself and everyone else is totally on their own, I win. And what does it even feel like for another human being who isn't me to want ready access to a coffee mug? More importantly, what does it matter? So I reach to take just one mug. That's right. One -- and only one -- mug. But shit, wife's coming into the kitchen. Eyes me. So I remove all six. Neatly place them in the cabinet in a little row. Smile at wife. Say something supportive. Cheerfully mask a galaxy of rage.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Gate C. Flight 97 to Vegas. Bored. Degenerately prepared airport tacos on your breath. Just finished John Hughes profile in Vanity Fair. Motherfucker wrote Sixteen Candles over one weekend. You feel vaguely inspired to start writing something rapidly yourself, but instead you Facebook stalk your ex and your ex's boyfriend and your ex's boyfriend's grotesque midwestern relatives who live in sad little suffocating boxes yet look happier than you. But there is hope in your heart. For you relish the fact that you can connect to the internet in an airport! There must be something redemptive about technological advancement. It's the only thing that does advance. But you realize your excitement over airport wifi also means you're getting old and there will soon be / already is a generation of fresher-brained digital natives eager to gently and seamlessly annihilate you forever -- a generation to whom the idea of an offline airport terminal is something quaint and nearly sepia toned. Or not sepia toned... for you don't even know through what cinematic filters these affable young beasts imagine your past. Does all of this bother you? Are you afraid of losing your cultural leverage? Of becoming irrelevant? Or do you not give a shit and just want to get on this plane, pop a Xanax, arrive in Vegas, get heated, have idiotic unprotected sex with someone damaged and beautiful but get away with it, come home, get married, have kids, and die?
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Automated Female Voice: ...press "1" and the pound key. Thank you for calling Bank of America. Good Bye.
Guy With Unusual Activity On His Credit Card: Wait. No. Don't go. You seemed so nice. And supportive. There was a distinct emotional intelligence to your voice. Wanna talk about art or books? I'm free the rest of the afternoon. Are you into hiking? Trails might be a bit muddy after all the rains, but that could sort of have its own appeal, you know? Brunch after? I want to hear all about your dreams and insecurities and past relationships. How'd you first get into banking and stuff? We should take a road trip up the coast sometime. Oh, so my dad's in town for a medical conference. Do you feel ready to meet him yet? What do you think? Hello? Umm, hello? Are you there? Where the fuck did you go? Hello??????? CUNT.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
> Connected, feel free to talk now
Stranger: Hey there.
Stranger: So our dick still looks the same.
You: Yeah. Pretty much... Uhh.... black dude's President.
> Your partner disconnected. Press "Next" to find a new person!
Friday, February 12, 2010
I'd be on blow if this were a few years ago, but now it's just a couple $6 cups of coffee from Lamill because I find being in control more ecstatic than being in ecstasy when I dismantle women.
Lucy, I'm going to retrieve a corkscrew but instead of opening up a $249 bottle of Bonnes Mares Grand Cru like I do every other night, I'm going to open up you. And fuck your ass. And artfully bludgeon your face with my Kindle DX as skin, tooth, and brain besmirch my heather grey reverse seam Steven Alan shirt...
Hold on one sec. Don't go anywhere. Well, you're tied up, so I guess you can't.
Back. Umm, so I couldn't find a corkscrew. Have you seen it? Fuck.
Umm. What about that Leatherman your brother gave me for Hanukkah last year? That has a corkscrew feature. No idea where it is? Ughhh, why do I fucking lose everything?!
Maybe we should just have rough sex. I'm feeling kinda low energy right now anyway.
I'm going to untie you. There.
Are you in the mood?
How was work?
Talked to my sister today. She's getting yet another rescue dog. So irresponsible, right? Oh God, I'm doing it again. Worrying about other people to avoid tackling my own problems.
Please. Hold Me. But not because I said so. I want you to want to hold me.
You're so beautiful.
Wait, do we still have chocolate cake in the fridge from last night? We do?! Yay! Let's eat in bed and watch Crimes and Misdemeanors. I feel content right now.
It's nice having someone to bear this fucking world with.
I love you, Lucy.
Want to wake up early and hike? I'll set the alarm.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
"Got a nice package on a real cheap round trip to The Good Guys! on Westwood and Pico circa 2000. Forgot how pushy those tie-wearing salesman were. Highlight of my stay: bought a 9-inch portable DVD player for $1400 before tax. Which was only 8% in CA back then. It's 8.25 now."
"Just booked my first trip using an online time travel agent. Went back to UCLA circa 04. Somehow the trip got a little screwy date-wise and I ended up arriving the night after I got dumped by this girl I'd been seeing for a year or so. Needless to say, I was depressed the whole trip. Couldn't eat. Lost 6 pounds and my skin got super dry. On the upside, got to relive a conversation with my sociopathic ex-roommate in which I sort of predicted - with a few major caveats - the iPod Touch. Also, my grams hadn't died of cancer just quite yet, so I got to sort of redo the whole visiting her in hospice thing."
"Was contemplating either a trip back to the time of homo sapien / neanderthal co-habitation or a jaunt to the Globe Theatre circa 1610 to catch a live performance of Lear, but then my brother-in-law who's a real avid snowboarder (surfer too) reminded me that Ralphs used to offer 50% off coupons to the local Los Angeles ski resorts that you could cut right out of the shopping bags. So we ended up going back to do just that and then took a 2-hour road trip to Mountain High circa 1992. Unfortunately, snowboards were banned on the mountain back then. My brother-in-law was very agitated about this. In fact, he more or less took out his anger on me which I did not appreciate. Not one ounce. So anyway, we rented skis. On one of the lifts, I met a shy, balding thirty-something violin teacher named Paul. I ended up getting his number, the idea being that I would maybe take violin lessons from him at a later date. This would result in a rip in the fabric of space-time whereby instead of directing a failed short film my senior year of high school, I focused solely on music before realizing I didn't have enough natural ability and giving up on the violin summer before college. Also, my brother-in-law and I got in a minor fender-bender on the way home from the mountain. He sort of blamed me for the accident even though he was the one driving."
Monday, February 1, 2010
The year 2020...
A guy wearing augmented reality contact lenses is skull fucking a girl in her apartment. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Blake Bailey's Cheever biography. A text overlay gives him the book's price, ISBN, and date of publication.
He concludes skull fucking. Proceeds to eat girl out. Makes her cum.
Wakes up. Drinks juice. Says something abusive but playful on his way out.
Stops by farmer's market on way home. A text overlay informs him that an unattractive, introverted alt girl in line at the pupusa stand is friends with an insufferable Asian guy he sort of knew freshman year of college. He does not approach the girl.
Continues driving home. While nearing major intersection, he notices billboard for a new HBO comedy series. This is the last image he sees before a cobalt blue BMW 335i piloted by a dark eyed 17 year old girl plows into him and careens into a city bus, throwing her still beautiful, still beautiful, but shit it sure is dispiriting what metal and glass can do to human flesh okay no longer at all beautiful and in fact horribly disfigured this is fucking awful omg this is so sad body into the middle of the street.
A text overlay on her vehicle confirms that it is in fact cobalt blue.