||[Oct. 23rd, 2004|08:03 am]
|||||gaggle of god-damns||]|
|||||crown me king feat. sly & chris latta- ghetto starscream||]|
hellfire distilled into brimstone, click-clack. ride in a train to union square fly through the air & darkness, hi dilly dare. all the sand of all the beaches curled up, wolf like, about our feet. coloured ash. went to dojos, ate some hijiki-tofu. this part is aces, is sterling silver. is isotopic gold, 25 carat. then peter has us meet up with his brother et al. peter's brother? okay for a dorky yuppie. you know, the kind of guy who reads rich dad poor dad, or whatever. his brother's friends? well, one was basically silent. the other, a dick. i mean, a duck- quack quack? not like, a total outright prick. more like- agressively lame. went to a bar on saint marks (see, warning flag right fucking there, right?) so they could eat. said guy (who is the sort who reads 48 laws of power et cetera) proceeds to make his play for alpha male. you know, he actually ordered the food for the other guys. ?! then he proceeds to start ordering rounds of drinks for everyone. i kinda nudge christopher about how we have no money & should be blasting off for planet elsewhere, & he says he figures that the guy is some expense account character who is buying us drinks. i have a more un-easy feeling, but am persueded to stay. seriously, guy, stop ordering shitty buckets of mini-coronas! man i hate guys who drink corona. anyhow, of course the bill is split. i'm not, you know, resentful of it? just resentful of the way that fucker handled things.
then christopher & i met up with ivana space-pilot. there had been text messaging with julia saying she was going to come to dinner & then later go to beauty bar. she was tied up with "things" so she didn't make dojos, but i thought the beauty bar suggestion might be a good idea for ivana. you know, that whole gimmiky ambiance they've got; sitting in hair drying chairs, that sort of thing. i should mention- i don't want to spend any money, & am tired as fuck. i'm ready to circle the wagons & retire to the tabernacle. whatever. so we go to beauty bar, get decent seats (fucking packed as a motherfuck. see if i go back to that nyu scene, nu-uh faith n' begora) drink one drink. then we walk space-pilot back to her hostel, christopher gets the a, i walk to the f, take it to hoyt-schemerhorne, tranfer to the g running local, & voila. home sweet home.
today i have to go open the store. which shouldn't be all that big of a deal, except that i don't know when i'm going to get a chance to go to the remainders fish market. there is some mackeral they're supposed to get in, that was delayed in texas because a refridgerated truck broke down for 3 days. so that will be selling for pennies on the nickle. also they have a few raw prawn wholesalers who are clearing out an old warehouse, so i'm going to get some of that for lunch, if i can get over there today. i'll just follow my nose!