Look at Benjamin Curtis.

[unburiable]

It was probably just a solemn miracle, but in a lot of ways caring about the specifics of that was entirely besides the purpose. I’ve always considered anticipation that won’t leave my head a precursor to a horrifying accident. It just so happens that I’ve had this feeling so many dozens of times-leading mostly all to memorial darkness after

Comments

I keep the sound low when I'm driving on Mulholland with a pretty would-be actress.

[unburiable]

I went out to an early lunch with Crispin Glover to discuss some anxieties he was under. Chief among them was an upcoming sequel to the recent hit Willard. Just as he should be, he felt wary of it. I told him to take a look at the history of the film sequel. Back to the Future made it’s mark three times, but rarely ever will that happen to anything outside of Friday the 13th or, like, Smokey & The Bandit.

There was a hot looking waitress there who I think used to date Rob Thomas from Matchbox 20. Her dress was really tight in the ass, and she kept bending over near me like she thought I might notice. Well, I did. I leaned over, grabbed her elbow, and I said, “No matter how much stuff he lavishes on you, is it really worth it to be seen with a guy like that in person? I mean, look where you are now. Was it worth it?”

Crispin seemed to know exactly what I was talking about, because he chuckled very deeply, in the way he always does when he finds something intensely cruel. So yeah, it was probably that same girl. I pushed her elbow away and ordered another glass of Guyi-Aur Ana (1945).

Neil Garriscond.

Re: I keep the sound low when I'm driving on Mulholland with a pretty would-be actress.

[vaughnb]

The point of the matter is that there are just too few all night diners anymore and the drive in movie population is even more bleak. This makes for hard times with the discrete rendevous crowd. Better that they just stay at home so the less upstanding citizens like ourselves don't have to look at them.

Smiling with broken lips after winning a fight.

[unburiable]

There was something sticking out from under the ledge by the front door when I stumbled up just shortly after one last Sunday, and it was an envelope. Sealed with a kiss that because of the sun was melted into the manila, it contained my drivers license and some polaroids of a deer with its antlers pulled from the skull. A tiny little plastic bag filled with clipped hair was purported to be from the deer, as well as a tiny little fingerprint card with my left hand's prints pasted all over it in what appeared to be blood. Looking down at my left hand, however, there weren't no trace of such a mess. I don't recall ever losing my license, either, which is funny, I guess. Not that I really pay too much attention to where it's been anyway, as I've been driving on its suspension since last year when I hit that hot dog stand while driving under the influence in the middle of the day. I've recieved telephone calls each day since getting that letter stuffed under the ledge, and each time it's been a different person on the other end of the line, alternately breathing heavy sighs over and over again and sometimes even coughing because they're doing that all wrong, betwixt accusations pointin' toward me disregarding the acts of a true gentleman or that of one who's trustworthy. They all keep asking me for the antlers. I take it they mean the deer. But I don't keep deer antler anywhere on my property, nor do I recall ever having a set in my possession anyway. I'm just going to suppose someone's trying to have a little joke on me. But the dead turtles thrown through all my windows during the middle of the night might be a bit on the persuasive side toward this being less a prank and more an act of revenge. When I was a boy I did this same thing to a girl I used to have a crush on. I hadn't been trying to claim any sort of revenge on her, though. She was just really hot and it used to make me want to kill things.

Benjamin Curtis.