I was dragged out of my Fünke by John & Elan this evening. We consumed maragar tit ass and coffee, and cased a fancy B&B, and then harassed Nick at the Barnes & Noble. I was Media Bastard and demanded to know why they had neither the new Mountain Goats CD nor the DVD of the real version of The Wicker Man. He could only shrug, sadly, like a Beirut cab driver.
The B&B around the corner from 21 Ocean Front in McFadden square is odd in a European way. There are pictures outside of the rooms, only four or five of them in total. The entrance is a tiny box of a room with only an elevator and a telephone. There’s something you must do to get in, but it’s Myst. Anyway his friend wasn’t working there that night.
Great horror movie fog & moon out tonight. The Mexican restaurant was acceptable for its type but full of Americans.
We’re supposed to get a good slosh of rain and HIGH SEAS OF DANGER this weekend. Who wants to go down to the jetty and get swept off and down into a terrible fate?