April 28, 2005

A DROP OF BLOOD ON A SUGARCUBE

Tomorrow is Los Angeles, and the weekend is the desert. The weekend will be spent in the close company of two people who, the last time I saw them together, it was April 1995 and they were smoking cocaine in the bathroom of the house where I lived. And me and my shaved head were locked in my bedroom crying myself to sleep. Cos 19 was like that. Cos the '90s were like that. Cos my teenage life was like a Hold Steady song, except only still a little funny 11 years after the fact, and I was the only one sober enough to remember how it really went down. Anyhow, miraculously, those people I am rolling with, they are alive and sober and a glow surrounds them now, like a Virgen de Guadalupe lamp, because at all times they are like "whoo-hoo! I am alive!". And together, we will all roll tight to the desert goth music fest, and I will spend approximately 40 straight hours making notes in my stenobook, in order to file two different 1200 word stories by Monday and Weds am, respectively. Meaning, I gotta get started on my Conor Oberst jokes now.

Posted by Jessica at April 28, 2005 02:33 PM | TrackBack