Listening to "Instinct Blues" on the glorious "Get Behind Me Satan," just finished listening to "Mule Variations." I am once again spending too much money on coffee while fretting over applications for crappy jobs. I need to leave in a jiff, probably by the end of this song, to go sign some insurance papers.
I hate living in Ventura. I believe I may never move back to this hole in the ground. It's pretty much the biggest drag in the world to spend your first couple months of your mainland marriage in the room you grew up in. The bed's squeaky, I've got a cold, there are no locks on the door, the volume on the TV is broken, "Blue Rondo A La Turk" just came on( a good thing), my dad gives me headaches, and Robyn wants us to save our wedding wine for Los Angeles living, and our rehearsal dinner beer for the movers.
What's a guy to do?
Move to Mars, I say! Move to that new planet they found!
There's some crappy art in this coffee shop. It's the pseudo surfer/ hippie/ Native American crapola that permeates the coastal plain. The only one I kind of enjoy is a painting of a Crow dressed as Nelson Mandela.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
8.16.2005
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3 comments:
i think i read about the Crow dressed as Nelson Mandela in the latest issue of audubon art quarterly. if i remember correctly it is a self portrait. can you beleive the bird paints with the brush tucked under his damned wing! such a freedom fighter.
bed's squeaky, eh? heh heh heh...
Treavor's bed is squeaky too.
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