so many possibilities for this to all end badly
I don't have a lot of things. I'm not really an advocate of stuff, as it were. The apartment in New York is pretty bare bones, and I ended up giving up the place in Los Angeles in favor of crashing on Favreau's couch whenever I needed, which hasn't been all that often. I work enough to pay the rent and that's pretty much okay.
The heat went out in my walk-up the other day, radiators bone dry and windows frosted over and the only pair of clean socks I had in the place had holes in them, which is sort of a metaphor for my luck recently. I'm not complaining, it's just one of those inevitable downswings you ride until you come up the other side. It's not that I haven't been working, but it's bits and pieces, small things that lack for distributors stateside and it is what it is. I could be living quite comfortably in Miami if I wanted, but I'll shoot myself in the face before I compromise. Damn stubborn mick tendencies that they are.
My sister gave me some mala beads she picked up somewhere in her travels, rosewood, feels like, and I've spent the past few mornings clicking them against each other like some sort of bastard rosary ritual. I'm not sure why, it's as much about the sensory as anything, the tapping, the slick smooth weight of them in my hand, over my wrist. A distraction, I guess.
I spent too much on a bottle of good red last night, cracked it open and lit a few candles and bundled up, watched my breath paint pictures on the window overlooking Tribeca. Everything is temporary, and from the beginning of my memory I've lived out of a suitcase or backpack, ready to move on to the next thing. I wonder what it would be like to stay on land for long enough to feel like I had a home.
But anyway. Here, watch a relic from days of old, Fav's "Dinner for Five" series, wherein Vince Vaughn displays his infamous asshole tendencies:
Cheers.
The heat went out in my walk-up the other day, radiators bone dry and windows frosted over and the only pair of clean socks I had in the place had holes in them, which is sort of a metaphor for my luck recently. I'm not complaining, it's just one of those inevitable downswings you ride until you come up the other side. It's not that I haven't been working, but it's bits and pieces, small things that lack for distributors stateside and it is what it is. I could be living quite comfortably in Miami if I wanted, but I'll shoot myself in the face before I compromise. Damn stubborn mick tendencies that they are.
My sister gave me some mala beads she picked up somewhere in her travels, rosewood, feels like, and I've spent the past few mornings clicking them against each other like some sort of bastard rosary ritual. I'm not sure why, it's as much about the sensory as anything, the tapping, the slick smooth weight of them in my hand, over my wrist. A distraction, I guess.
I spent too much on a bottle of good red last night, cracked it open and lit a few candles and bundled up, watched my breath paint pictures on the window overlooking Tribeca. Everything is temporary, and from the beginning of my memory I've lived out of a suitcase or backpack, ready to move on to the next thing. I wonder what it would be like to stay on land for long enough to feel like I had a home.
But anyway. Here, watch a relic from days of old, Fav's "Dinner for Five" series, wherein Vince Vaughn displays his infamous asshole tendencies:
Cheers.