I keep taking these trips where I need a vacation when I get back. Just a note to say I’m back, I’m alive, and I’m trying to write a little in between phone calls at work. How the hell does anyone get any writing done when you have to work for a living? Irritable and distracted, all I can think of are a few random pieces of culture I’ve been consuming and enjoying:

-Richard Wright, Black Boy
-Chuck Palahniuk, Lullaby
Lost in Translation movie and soundtrack
-honey roasted peanuts
-my own bed
-finding out that my AA sponsee and I both know all the words to Sandra Bernhard’s Without You I’m Nothing on our road trip home from Palm Springs. I wish I had known sooner, like when I was playing volleyball in the pool with a few queers and I shouted “Yeah, SPIKE IT BABE, YEAH, ALL RIGHT!!” and everyone just looked at me.
-late night convenience store runs while on vacation, picking up a carton of water, milk, and a box of Apple Jacks.

Avoid at all costs: Brian De Palma’s Femme Fatale, even if you just want to escape for a little bit. It’s bad. And no, not Showgirls bad. Two hours of my life that I will never get back.

Keep it real, people.

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