Feb. 11th, 2004

antoniusrex: (closeup)
Hung with [livejournal.com profile] lorienbiznitch, who I haven't seen in like...AGES! (watch it Michael...I went out with your woman!!! Muhahahahhahaha *cough cough* *gorch*) We hit Old Towne Pasadena for Sushi and gossip, and Scene Kvetching.

I ended up being late for meeting up, as my mom decided that she wouldn't move her car until the Simpsons went off.

"Mom, move the car, I gotta go."

"Just wait a few minutes--it's the episode with Bleeding Gums Murphy, where he dies and talks to Lisa in the clouds. I like this one!"

So I wend my way up through LA Rush Hour traffic, rocking out to Living Color, and getting hypnotized by the stop stop go go stop flash of red and amber that is bumper to bumper passing through Downtown, past the 101/10 interchange, past China Town, past Dodger Stadium, and past the 5.

Sitting in traffic gives you plenty of time to think, and I do believe that I have the start of a Cyberpunk style movie set in LA. At least I know the feel, so hey, if I ever get my crap together (HAHAHHAHAHAHA!) maybe I'll write it. If nothing else, I'll make some pretty pictures. Maybe.

Hit the 110 going into South Pasadena, and the speeds increse, traffic vanishes, the posted speed limit drops 10 mpg, and the roads become scary, and twisted. And everyone drives like a bat out of hell, driven, literally, like they know just where they're going, and god help you if you don't know how to change lanes.

The exit to Lorien's is scary, as they sometimes get in "Old" Los Angeles, and requires you to go from 45 mph (read: posted 45 mph; most folks are doing 60 or so) to 5mph. And unlike much of what Caltrans posts in Southern California, they actually mean 5 mph. It turns completely the opposite direction, and throws you into a two lane street with no lights and a stop sign. Neat, and scary.

Pick Lorien up at her "isn't this the ghetto?" apartment, which is actually very nice and HUGE, and we tromp off to Old Town Pasadena.

The place where we went (why can't I remember the name?) is a cool little hole in the wall with mirrors everywhere to give the illusion of depth. It's a little bar with boats filled with sushi floating, moving around the entire set up. You pick what you want, and you pay by the plate. The plates are design coded so you (and the waitress) knows what the prices are. It's different.

After gorging ourselves on much good sushi, we zoomed back to Lorien's place to watch America's Next Top Model. Because we are both addicted. And I guess we're both catty about it. Go figure. But much fun.

And then we yakked about movies, and modeling, and scams, and old clubbing scenes, and hipster vs. scenester BS, and Urban Outfitters, and jobs, and sat around drinking low carb beer.

Good times.

Drove home blasting Pink Floyd, and thought about hanging out drinking beer, eating REALLY hot wings and hitting on waitresses with Tony and Howden and the other jugglers in New Haven. It kinda jumped in there, and I chewed over how much of my "lifestyle" I've ceded to others, and how much of who I am sits at the back of my closet until I drag it out and whipe off the dust. Thought about how many friends that I have that I don't talk to as much as I'd like to, but how easy it is to fall back in like no time has passed.

And then I realized how easy it is to put ten years behind you, and not blink. And how hard it is to pick up a phone or put pen to paper sometimes. Don't want to lose those people. Have to hold on to them, even if it means only an odd email, a random phone call, or a drive by sushi night.

The Great Gig in The Sky filled the car, haunting like an old memory, as I drifted home through the dull, concrete-grey glow that seems to hover over Compton like so much dust. And I had things to pull from the back of my closet.
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So even if you're not a fan of HP Lovecraft, this is creepier than hell!

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