Jared and I have an interesting “grass is greener” friendship. Sometimes when we’re talking it seems like we want to be each other, and then we both laugh as we realize it.
I went to the Macaroni Grill tonight and expected it to be awful, but it was ok. The saltimbocca was, anyway; I avoided the big pasta dishes. Bad Italian food is a terrible thing, because real Italian food is so transcendently good.
I’m so much of a fool lately that I can’t hardly keep track of which kind of fool I am. I hope the good kind of fool triumphs o’er the bad kind.
Coming up PCH from Capistrano with Matthew Sweet, Richard Thompson, the Furs, Buzzcocks, and the Kinks keeping me kompany felt good, especially after all this social anxiety lately. I think i have somehow become 16 again. Anyone notice my voice changing recently?
I might go on a drive to nowhere tomorrow night late. Anyone wanna go? Alternatively, come over and I’ll make everyone a big salad. I got to talking about caprese again today and I’m thinking obsessively bout roma tomatoes, fresh wet buffalo mozzarella, basil, olive oil. Like, a 55 gallon drum of caprese.
I can listen to a really depressing Richard Thompson song like “The End of the Rainbow” or “How I Wanted To” and feel better. I realized tonight that it’s because Dave Mattacks hits the drums like he’s using a nailgun, bam bam bam, and he’s actually stitching my universe back together. Thank God for good drummers; without them, I’d be useless gelatin.
Easy to fall
harder you stall
starts to slip away
drunk and in love
out at a club
holding a neon sign