| 7:23 p.m. | - | 2002-04-05 |
| Reaped | went down to the beach last night with FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF. we sat next to a crumbling sand castle, backs to the line of hotels and bars. the lights from the strip blot out the stars but not enough for me orion and polaris, and the two orange specs flying in formation. "bombs" he inhaled, "but if its the end," exhale, "its just the way i wanted to go." "nah," i said, "when the time comes, i'd really want some herion handy..." because really, i'd only do that if i knew i was going to eat it very soon. then on the beach, the hard syncopated patter of helipcopter wings. a spot light swept the beach a half mile downshore, throwing dark shadows off nocturnal beach combers, catching the hotel tree line in halogen daylight. the light flicked over us, more curious of would-be terrorist invaders hiding under the pier than a couple of midnight smokers. "it's supposed to make us safer." I feel the wieght of glass in my hand. "You good?" he asks. Thoughts turn to denoument, fin de siecle, and other french words that describe this decadent existence. A toke, a nod, and we leave for a tiki bar, to mull the police state over a pitcher of beer.
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Sown |
| Fresh Cut
New digs - 2004-05-25 Bachelor hell - 2004-05-10 Grumble - 2004-05-07 Coachella pt. 2, or goddamn do my fingers hurt - 2004-05-05 Coachella part one, or, this monkey's gone to indio rawk heaven - 2004-05-05 Random Shearings Rings |
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