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band names, writing, algieria, atmosphere one on one, armenia, archive, foto, danny, beverly d'angelo, plans, gift set, artists, community, iraqi, fairuza balk, judy davis, larry charles, fullmetal jacket, jordanian,
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Kat rubs her head like something uncomfortably hot is going on inside. I take a swig of my iced latte wishing I could get on with the rest of my life, but I'm stuck. I have no job for the first time in 20 years. My writing seems to be selling, but then my best friend critics are saying zero about it, which makes me think it sucks. And even then I couldn't support my family on those earnings. Still movies need some kind movies of other job. Two girls walk by in tight hip-hugger jeans and tube tops, movies wide white belts around their waists, hair flowing down their backs like Julie from "Mod Squad". It's like the 70's all over again, only now we have killer viruses you can't cure with a penicillin shot. I was too young for free sex in the 70's, too married in the new millennium. Grew a beard in Antarctica and it's showing a little gray. Sheep dog kind of thing. Kat likes it. I would much rather be having sex right now than thinking about being a failure at everything I do. So I tell Kat she's not being helpful and I suggest something else not helpful that's coming from the sun and the hormones I still have even though I'm a lot older than spring break girl, Fort Lauderdale, Always and Forever.
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