Cut

Get Carter.



I'm lurking in the shadows
of my memory
we were going to have a circus in the bar.
-- Daniel Johnston

I was invited to dinner last week, a small party, thin room, tapas, wine, and a movie star. Like, a big one. I don't want any more google action than I am already getting, so I won't mention her name, but damn, if that just isn't the weirdest shit. (she was one of the leads in Charlie's Angels) I turned down the invitation though, deciding to meet instead with a small group of writers in an apartment off the main drag of the downtown boutique section in the hometown. You pick your veneer...

I like the movies. When a well dressed couple kiss on screen, with the music cued at just the right time, the lights focused in on the hot spot, and the screen floods with all the right colors, well, I feel love. Which is probably why I spend a lot of time in the theatre. But more often than not I will pass by film shoots as I walk home, and see my fantasy unroll in a ridiculous mess of catering trucks, portable dressing rooms, and solar fleeced production assistants with safety vests and walkie talkies. I hate it when make believe is exposed,

I was drunk with Vernice the other night. It was our last dinner. We decided that together, on MSN. To have one last dinner; no talking. A special dinner that we would remember forever, and then go our separate ways. We drank a bottle of our favorite Guwertztraminer, followed it with a half bottle of warmed Tawny, smoked weed, and took pictures of ourselves kissing in front of the freezer using the timer feature on our cameras. We would kiss, the cameras would flash, capture, then we'd press the buttons again, and resume kissing for the ten seconds that it took for the lens to grab us. Over and over, we must have kissed like that for a half hour. I left her the next morning, and walked 15 blocks to work in the dark dawn of the coming fall.

It is 11:35, and right now I am frying a half pound of bacon. I just want to fill my belly and go to sleep. I've been so hungry lately, but there is little food, only liquids. I have been out every night since last sunday, and I am starting to fall into a pattern of manic mingle chatter. I order my coffee in the morning with an expressive gusto that seams more suited to a cocktail party atmosphere rather than the office crowd going through their morning rituals. Night bleeds into morning, the day crawls towards the dinner hour, and now that I have my new iPod, I even have a soundtrack to this action drama, with suspense and horror, sure to bomb at the box office.