Saturday Night Griever
Remember when everything was good, and the days rolled from one to the next like a series of soft, happy little waves? What was it, four or five years ago? Nobody worried about employment and money and happiness in one’s social or personal life. At least I didn’t. Why worry? Everybody was gonna stay young and have fun forever. Because, you know, LA. Or something.
It’s been a weird and turbulent week and I’ve found myself trying my hardest to cause as much upheaval and change as I can in the shortest amount of time possible. My temporary anxiety and frustration is a small price to pay for (hopefully) prolonged future happiness. If this sounds vague it’s because, well, I’m being vague.
Since last I wrote I’ve tried some new food (Upstairs 2, Settebello) and saw one of the worst movies ever made (Tammy), imbibed quite a bit of alcohol and daydreamed about leaving town for Vegas or San Diego or…someplace just to clear my head. Also I re-watched In A Glass Cage the other day which is just as devastating as it was when I first viewed it.
I won a game of Settlers of Catan one night. I drank a shitty bourbon lemonade and watched the lights on the ferris wheel in Santa Monica from a hotel bar another night. Tonight I’m going to the Night Market with some friends to eat gross foods like bacon-wrapped everything, weird animal parts on skewers, and maybe if I’m lucky I’ll consume my own weight in pork buns. I’ll drown my misery in uniquely-spiced Asian sauces, then chase it with a shot of sake and tears. Life: even when it sucks there’s little moments of joy. Like balut, or something called a pho taco.
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