[for Terry]
He'd just wanted to watch a fucking movie.
Being smarter than your average trailer trash fucktard, he knew what Memoirs of a Geisha was, had considered picking it up from the library and reading it, preferably late at night and with a copy of Hustler around it so his mom wouldn't want to like, Have A Talk with him or anything.
Okay, that's a lie, his mom was pretty awesome and supportive and he did her a disservice, lumping her in with the other trailer trash fucktards he liked to pretend were the entire population of Kansas City. He misses home a lot more now than he ever has. He definitely misses having a library where you could depend on certain items to be on their shelves, in a constant sort of order. The shelf won't give him the book, but it gave him the movie, and after a couple of hours camped out on the couch, he's past the point of people bustling in and out of the room and glad of it, wiping his eyes on his sleeve again and wishing the film canister had come with a box of tissues.
God fucking damn is this a sad story. He should have known, really: a critically acclaimed drama about a chick being sold by her family and surviving WWII is still a movie about a chick, and therefore the kind of thing chicks watch while clutching throw pillows and pints of ice cream. Ray doesn't have either, so instead he watches Sayuri have another strained conversation with Nobu and hopes nobody he knows catches him watching this shit. He should really just turn it off, but fuck, he wants to know what happens.
Being smarter than your average trailer trash fucktard, he knew what Memoirs of a Geisha was, had considered picking it up from the library and reading it, preferably late at night and with a copy of Hustler around it so his mom wouldn't want to like, Have A Talk with him or anything.
Okay, that's a lie, his mom was pretty awesome and supportive and he did her a disservice, lumping her in with the other trailer trash fucktards he liked to pretend were the entire population of Kansas City. He misses home a lot more now than he ever has. He definitely misses having a library where you could depend on certain items to be on their shelves, in a constant sort of order. The shelf won't give him the book, but it gave him the movie, and after a couple of hours camped out on the couch, he's past the point of people bustling in and out of the room and glad of it, wiping his eyes on his sleeve again and wishing the film canister had come with a box of tissues.
God fucking damn is this a sad story. He should have known, really: a critically acclaimed drama about a chick being sold by her family and surviving WWII is still a movie about a chick, and therefore the kind of thing chicks watch while clutching throw pillows and pints of ice cream. Ray doesn't have either, so instead he watches Sayuri have another strained conversation with Nobu and hopes nobody he knows catches him watching this shit. He should really just turn it off, but fuck, he wants to know what happens.