2) dancing
3)
4)
5) old cars (including early 80s)
6) free __________
7) wood stoves
8) decorating
9) writing
10) tennis
11) candle lit dinners
12) spirituality
13) optimism
14) organization
15) collage
16) day dreaming
17) intention
LUCA LUCA LUCA
- Luca Makyl
- This blog was once entitled, "unedited. uncensored. unabridged. " Despite the name change, It's still the same old shit...
i am 25 and self absorbed. i check my reflection in the windows i pass by. in the past, my blogs have been highly censored. i care too much about what other people think. this is me...shit and all.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Likes...
1) capers
2) dancing
3)dennis kucinich sailing
4)sailing dennis kucinich
5) old cars (including early 80s)
6) free __________
7) wood stoves
8) decorating
9) writing
10) tennis
11) candle lit dinners
12) spirituality
13) optimism
14) organization
15) collage
16) day dreaming
17) intention
2) dancing
3)
4)
5) old cars (including early 80s)
6) free __________
7) wood stoves
8) decorating
9) writing
10) tennis
11) candle lit dinners
12) spirituality
13) optimism
14) organization
15) collage
16) day dreaming
17) intention
Dislikes...
1) anchovies maggots
2) lies
3)maggots zoe
4) dish water
5) drain hair
6)zoe anchovies
7) people who talk about their drug habits
8) working when other people aren't
9) george bush
10) monsanto
11) inefficiency and waste
12) cramps
13) skipping DVDs
14) debt
15) mosquitos
16) seaweed grabbing at my ankles
17) organized religion
2) lies
3)
4) dish water
5) drain hair
6)
7) people who talk about their drug habits
8) working when other people aren't
9) george bush
10) monsanto
11) inefficiency and waste
12) cramps
13) skipping DVDs
14) debt
15) mosquitos
16) seaweed grabbing at my ankles
17) organized religion
Monday, February 4, 2008
i woke up at 8:22 and realized you hadn't landed yet.
lay awake for a while—excited and nervous.
thinking maybe you'd call, but then figured you wouldn't want to wake me.
decided to write some poetry or my equivalent thereof.
decided to write you a love letter.
i don't really know how i feel about love letters.
Especially mine, but maybe I should start putting myself out there.
i dreamt of hundreds of men last night. i was making them sandwiches.
i don't really know what that means.
i was in my prom date's suburban development. and i was trapped there.
i don't really know what that means either.
i don't think you were in it, but there was this consuming emptiness that i couldn't shake.
maybe you were in it after all.
I don’t like missing you. Please stick around.
the phone rang at 9:32 and i dove for it.
threw myself over the partially made bed.
that may be the only acceptable part of you being away.
The fact that I only have to make half of the bed.
But I’d much rather have you around.
It’s a little too sterile without you. and I think part of me really enjoys stale food.
And your company.
I miss watching you over at your computer in the morning.
Wondering if you’re chatting with other girls.
Older, more experienced—better qualified.
But hoping you’re following stocks instead.
Surrounded by various dirty cereal bowls and coffee mugs.
Hating your green roseway shirt enough to actually like it.
Like you. Enough to make me nervous most of the time.
Nervous like when we first started dating.
When you, just starting to doze off, would start your erratic breathing.
And I was convinced you had some chronic disorder and wouldn’t make it through the night.
or after not seeing you for a month.
Wondering if you’d still be attracted to me, still love me.
And I love you.
I always have.
And i hate putting myself on display.
Writing for other people. To be judged by them.
And I think I hate love letters.
Tucked away waiting to be found and read and reread.
Maybe my handwriting (that you haven’t seen much of) will hide it from you.
And maybe you’ll throw this one away.
Because I don’t want to be just another girl who once wrote you a love letter that you once tucked away in a drawer somewhere. 10:12.
lay awake for a while—excited and nervous.
thinking maybe you'd call, but then figured you wouldn't want to wake me.
decided to write some poetry or my equivalent thereof.
decided to write you a love letter.
i don't really know how i feel about love letters.
Especially mine, but maybe I should start putting myself out there.
i dreamt of hundreds of men last night. i was making them sandwiches.
i don't really know what that means.
i was in my prom date's suburban development. and i was trapped there.
i don't really know what that means either.
i don't think you were in it, but there was this consuming emptiness that i couldn't shake.
maybe you were in it after all.
I don’t like missing you. Please stick around.
the phone rang at 9:32 and i dove for it.
threw myself over the partially made bed.
that may be the only acceptable part of you being away.
The fact that I only have to make half of the bed.
But I’d much rather have you around.
It’s a little too sterile without you. and I think part of me really enjoys stale food.
And your company.
I miss watching you over at your computer in the morning.
Wondering if you’re chatting with other girls.
Older, more experienced—better qualified.
But hoping you’re following stocks instead.
Surrounded by various dirty cereal bowls and coffee mugs.
Hating your green roseway shirt enough to actually like it.
Like you. Enough to make me nervous most of the time.
Nervous like when we first started dating.
When you, just starting to doze off, would start your erratic breathing.
And I was convinced you had some chronic disorder and wouldn’t make it through the night.
or after not seeing you for a month.
Wondering if you’d still be attracted to me, still love me.
And I love you.
I always have.
And i hate putting myself on display.
Writing for other people. To be judged by them.
And I think I hate love letters.
Tucked away waiting to be found and read and reread.
Maybe my handwriting (that you haven’t seen much of) will hide it from you.
And maybe you’ll throw this one away.
Because I don’t want to be just another girl who once wrote you a love letter that you once tucked away in a drawer somewhere. 10:12.
Sunday, February 3, 2008
i have a really strong urge to smoke. it's really strange, because i haven't in a while. well, it's been a month, but that's not what i mean. it's been years since i've smoked regularly. five since i quit.
i remember the first day of freshman orientation. the first person i met, standing there in line waiting for all of those damn papers, was katie. i decided that her and i were going to be great friends. we weren't. my mom was with me and i didn't feel dorky about it, because i, without a doubt, had the coolest mom there. i think she was even mistaken for a student. i watched all of the kids go through the line, get their dictionary's worth of forms—student schedules, various medical forms, surveys, the works. and then it was my turn. i had spent the day rolling my eyes at all of it and this stupid line wasn't any different. student schedule—check. med forms—check. and then there was this one yellow form...
"ms. makyl, this form needs to be turned in before the first day of classes. it just says you consent to random drug testing."
FUCK.
my mom just cut me this glance like, "you little shit, you've totally blown this." i just stopped dead and looked at her waiting for her to fix it. pull clean pee out of purse. something. anything. and because i had just been taking forms and rolling my eyes—just going through the motions, i hadn't even heard anything besides "DRUG TESTING". i don't know what i thought—maybe that at the end of the form tables was a pee station—that i was getting booted right then and there.
FUCK.
and i guess that's the day i quit. i hadn't planned on it or really even considered stopping and then "kabaam". fucking yellow form.
i remember the first day of freshman orientation. the first person i met, standing there in line waiting for all of those damn papers, was katie. i decided that her and i were going to be great friends. we weren't. my mom was with me and i didn't feel dorky about it, because i, without a doubt, had the coolest mom there. i think she was even mistaken for a student. i watched all of the kids go through the line, get their dictionary's worth of forms—student schedules, various medical forms, surveys, the works. and then it was my turn. i had spent the day rolling my eyes at all of it and this stupid line wasn't any different. student schedule—check. med forms—check. and then there was this one yellow form...
"ms. makyl, this form needs to be turned in before the first day of classes. it just says you consent to random drug testing."
FUCK.
my mom just cut me this glance like, "you little shit, you've totally blown this." i just stopped dead and looked at her waiting for her to fix it. pull clean pee out of purse. something. anything. and because i had just been taking forms and rolling my eyes—just going through the motions, i hadn't even heard anything besides "DRUG TESTING". i don't know what i thought—maybe that at the end of the form tables was a pee station—that i was getting booted right then and there.
FUCK.
and i guess that's the day i quit. i hadn't planned on it or really even considered stopping and then "kabaam". fucking yellow form.
and maybe this is the love letter i should have given you years ago,
but never took the time to write it all out. figuring you'd always be around.
strong and stable and committed.
and i took you for granted. and you knew it. and you let me.
and i walked all over you. and you knew it.
i became a joke to you. you rolled your eyes with every new adventure.
and then i dicked you around. used you. and you knew it.
i wanted to change. just couldn't.
i called you on your birthday. to give you something to cling to.
a reason to wait for me. and you did. for so long.
and maybe you still are. and i'm sorry.
i miss the drives. the routine. even the weather that i pretended to hate.
the gifts you'd bring. coffees in the morning, because you knew i wouldn't have time.
or money. and the money you gave. so much. and i inhaled it.
i loved the dinners. looking at you over candles.
shadows on your face. your eyes so sunken. and you loved me so much.
and i was mean. cruel, heartless. would say the meanest things i could muster.
and sometimes you'd cry. and i never apologized, because i was always right.
but i'm apologizing now. and i miss you so much.
maybe this permanent lump in my throat is for you.
a constant reminder of how i've hurt you. used you.
and shit, i miss you. i miss you so much.
but never took the time to write it all out. figuring you'd always be around.
strong and stable and committed.
and i took you for granted. and you knew it. and you let me.
and i walked all over you. and you knew it.
i became a joke to you. you rolled your eyes with every new adventure.
and then i dicked you around. used you. and you knew it.
i wanted to change. just couldn't.
i called you on your birthday. to give you something to cling to.
a reason to wait for me. and you did. for so long.
and maybe you still are. and i'm sorry.
i miss the drives. the routine. even the weather that i pretended to hate.
the gifts you'd bring. coffees in the morning, because you knew i wouldn't have time.
or money. and the money you gave. so much. and i inhaled it.
i loved the dinners. looking at you over candles.
shadows on your face. your eyes so sunken. and you loved me so much.
and i was mean. cruel, heartless. would say the meanest things i could muster.
and sometimes you'd cry. and i never apologized, because i was always right.
but i'm apologizing now. and i miss you so much.
maybe this permanent lump in my throat is for you.
a constant reminder of how i've hurt you. used you.
and shit, i miss you. i miss you so much.
Friday, February 1, 2008
why do we keep love letters?
i found some today. i wasn't even snooping. love letters to big.
i keep them too. some of them. but i don't know why.
do we secretly want someone to find them?
make others jealous by showing how much we were loved?
or are they for ourselves to remember how much we were loved?
do we plant them so they'll be found when we're least expecting it?
create some unnecessary drama for a brief second,
tuck them away in a new semi-concealed place, and then just wait for them to be discovered again.
can we not let go? see, i don't think we keep them for ourselves.
do we ever go back and read them?
i think we keep them for others. to prove something. but i don't know what.
maybe to say, "hey, look, i'm a good catch. and others think so too."
or maybe to live in a past, happier time and place.
i don't even know where my old love letters are.
and if i did, would i throw them away?
i'm assuming they're in the attic in connecticut.
tucked into various boxes with pictures and old baseball tees.
maybe i'm saving them for my memoir, for my grandkids, for myself for when i'm too old to remember.
maybe to show moments of happiness in relationships of chaos.
to deceive others. to deceive myself.
anyway, i was just thinking about it. love letters. and why we keep them.
i found some today. i wasn't even snooping. love letters to big.
i keep them too. some of them. but i don't know why.
do we secretly want someone to find them?
make others jealous by showing how much we were loved?
or are they for ourselves to remember how much we were loved?
do we plant them so they'll be found when we're least expecting it?
create some unnecessary drama for a brief second,
tuck them away in a new semi-concealed place, and then just wait for them to be discovered again.
can we not let go? see, i don't think we keep them for ourselves.
do we ever go back and read them?
i think we keep them for others. to prove something. but i don't know what.
maybe to say, "hey, look, i'm a good catch. and others think so too."
or maybe to live in a past, happier time and place.
i don't even know where my old love letters are.
and if i did, would i throw them away?
i'm assuming they're in the attic in connecticut.
tucked into various boxes with pictures and old baseball tees.
maybe i'm saving them for my memoir, for my grandkids, for myself for when i'm too old to remember.
maybe to show moments of happiness in relationships of chaos.
to deceive others. to deceive myself.
anyway, i was just thinking about it. love letters. and why we keep them.
i woke up too early and drove through the city
it was raining and the windows wouldn't defog
i thought about my catch twenty-two life
and went in circles for over an hour
made too many left turns, left turns
and pressed too many buttons on the radio
to the point where the static was still there
just at a lower volume
i had to have crossed oxford street a thousand times
never able to make the necessary turn
so close, but so far
more lost than if i'd never been here before
familiar landmarks, but not knowing how it all pieced together
circle after circle after circle
it's a miracle i'm still alive
not starving to death, or smashed in an alley
driver touch the yellow line
touch the yellow line, touch the yellow line
maybe it's not yellow here and that's why i am so confused
so confused, so confused
but it was dark and it was raining
and then wand-waving magically, i was home
and i slept for hours, many hours
exhausted from my circles in the rain
it was raining and the windows wouldn't defog
i thought about my catch twenty-two life
and went in circles for over an hour
made too many left turns, left turns
and pressed too many buttons on the radio
to the point where the static was still there
just at a lower volume
i had to have crossed oxford street a thousand times
never able to make the necessary turn
so close, but so far
more lost than if i'd never been here before
familiar landmarks, but not knowing how it all pieced together
circle after circle after circle
it's a miracle i'm still alive
not starving to death, or smashed in an alley
driver touch the yellow line
touch the yellow line, touch the yellow line
maybe it's not yellow here and that's why i am so confused
so confused, so confused
but it was dark and it was raining
and then wand-waving magically, i was home
and i slept for hours, many hours
exhausted from my circles in the rain
Saturday, January 19, 2008
and this is what makes me homesick...
hi rat
hi mama rat
hi girly rat
big fat sally rat
little skinny caitlin rat eyes
hi mama rat
hi girly rat
big fat sally rat
little skinny caitlin rat eyes
Thursday, January 17, 2008
a very gray day...
I'm sitting on my milo-colored couch in roughly the same position as I have for the past three days. And though I choose not to, I am physically able to remove myself from this life-sucking nest and this is what sets today apart from the past two. I’m overwhelmed by a consuming boredom that makes me think of Keri. I look out to the ocean and hope for a calming peace, but find only sorrow.
A gray sky, meeting a gray sea, and the lack of a notable horizon as though there is no beginning, no end, and no purpose.
I am not sad, angry, frustrated. Not happy, enthusiastic, or even content. I think I could die right now and, if given the chance to reflect on it, I don’t think I’d be fazed. I don’t care enough to do myself in and I don’t want to exert the energy.
So I just sit here and deepen the indentation in the couch, take in the stillness of the room, listen to the crashing waves, watch the flies buzzing aimlessly, watch the trees sway dully in the breeze, and feel empty.
The gray seems to be consuming everything—the green of the trees, the brown cliff face, this room, and my head. And, I’m pretty sure that soon, it’ll all be one large mass of gray that will simply be eaten by this life-sucking couch.
A gray sky, meeting a gray sea, and the lack of a notable horizon as though there is no beginning, no end, and no purpose.
I am not sad, angry, frustrated. Not happy, enthusiastic, or even content. I think I could die right now and, if given the chance to reflect on it, I don’t think I’d be fazed. I don’t care enough to do myself in and I don’t want to exert the energy.
So I just sit here and deepen the indentation in the couch, take in the stillness of the room, listen to the crashing waves, watch the flies buzzing aimlessly, watch the trees sway dully in the breeze, and feel empty.
The gray seems to be consuming everything—the green of the trees, the brown cliff face, this room, and my head. And, I’m pretty sure that soon, it’ll all be one large mass of gray that will simply be eaten by this life-sucking couch.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
virgo, you will be sexually frustrated and worked up...
big left for work at 1150. one hour later, i am still not dressed. i have accomplished very little today, but have looked at significant amounts of porn.
today's horoscope: "VIRGO: Experimental Uranus might put you on the hunt for new sexy exploits. So consider checking out a few erotic books or X-rated videos."
sigh. i guess this morning's masturbation sesh was in the stars. time to find some clothes.
today's horoscope: "VIRGO: Experimental Uranus might put you on the hunt for new sexy exploits. So consider checking out a few erotic books or X-rated videos."
sigh. i guess this morning's masturbation sesh was in the stars. time to find some clothes.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
a now-suicidal detective named luca
i have too much time on my hands. i get bored. i get to thinking. i'm an irrational human being when i'm idle. i'm a bit of a detective.
today, i have irrationally concluded that big took zoe sailing. i spy a bit. she's in my head and it's pissing me off. i googled her. i know, i'm lame. i'm not denying it. found this on her company site:
"Merry Christmas! We will be operational every non-public holiday day over the Christmas New Year's period.
But don't expect to reach us on the afternoon of Tuesday the 18th of December, as we'll be taking to the high seas (well, Sydney Harbour) for our Christmas Party."
and the next bit is where the detective skills come into play. i have big's work schedule in ical. december 18th looked like this:
LGS scheduled December 18, 2007 from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM
Invoice scheduled December 18, 2007 from 6:00 AM to 7:00 AM
Work (Harbour Sail) scheduled December 18, 2007 from 12:00 PM to 6:00 PM
kill me now. really, just kill me now.
i really should find new ways to occupy my time. i did draw a bit today. pictures of vaginas. they very well may be my specialty.
today, i have irrationally concluded that big took zoe sailing. i spy a bit. she's in my head and it's pissing me off. i googled her. i know, i'm lame. i'm not denying it. found this on her company site:
"Merry Christmas! We will be operational every non-public holiday day over the Christmas New Year's period.
But don't expect to reach us on the afternoon of Tuesday the 18th of December, as we'll be taking to the high seas (well, Sydney Harbour) for our Christmas Party."
and the next bit is where the detective skills come into play. i have big's work schedule in ical. december 18th looked like this:
LGS scheduled December 18, 2007 from 6:00 PM to 8:00 PM
Invoice scheduled December 18, 2007 from 6:00 AM to 7:00 AM
Work (Harbour Sail) scheduled December 18, 2007 from 12:00 PM to 6:00 PM
kill me now. really, just kill me now.
i really should find new ways to occupy my time. i did draw a bit today. pictures of vaginas. they very well may be my specialty.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
i thought about jumping again today. walked to the cliff edge and watched the water for what felt like hours. i picked two landing places. one that would kill me in seconds and one that i could possibly survive if i jumped and then decided against the whole suicide bit. i liked the first. the water was so confused and tumultuous that i found it calming. it made my head seem quite minor in the scheme of things.
the waves crashed against this one smooth rock and as the water coming off of the rock met the newly crashing waves, a pit was formed. i imagined being sucked into the hole and found it peaceful.
i thought about sailing and set design, my life, and my weaknesses. thought about my hangover and headache and wondered how i could be so sad after a great night. i decided that i'm manic.
the wind picked up to about 15 knots and the spray of the crashing waves was thrown 30 feet to the northwest and still reaching a vertical height of 40 feet. i decided that if i were to jump, i'd time it so that i'd fall with the spray. a misty and peaceful drop before chaos and sucking for air.
i thought about keri and did some quick math and figured out that it was the january when she was 23 that she killed herself. and even though i'm on the other side of the world, the situation is fairly similar. i thought for a while and drew up connections, but then decided i didn't want to be a follower. i convinced myself that if i make it through january, i'll be free.
i thought about andrew, but i don't know why.
the waves crashed against this one smooth rock and as the water coming off of the rock met the newly crashing waves, a pit was formed. i imagined being sucked into the hole and found it peaceful.
i thought about sailing and set design, my life, and my weaknesses. thought about my hangover and headache and wondered how i could be so sad after a great night. i decided that i'm manic.
the wind picked up to about 15 knots and the spray of the crashing waves was thrown 30 feet to the northwest and still reaching a vertical height of 40 feet. i decided that if i were to jump, i'd time it so that i'd fall with the spray. a misty and peaceful drop before chaos and sucking for air.
i thought about keri and did some quick math and figured out that it was the january when she was 23 that she killed herself. and even though i'm on the other side of the world, the situation is fairly similar. i thought for a while and drew up connections, but then decided i didn't want to be a follower. i convinced myself that if i make it through january, i'll be free.
i thought about andrew, but i don't know why.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
hey, girly, get a job...
Spent the day looking for a job—a "cash-in-hand". I came up with very little. The most intriguing being a full on body painting photo shoot for high resolution prints. If I can’t afford to eat, at least I’ll be able to endlessly gaze at myself nude, painted, and framed. Great.
This whole working visa rigmarole is really starting to be a pain in the ass. I’ve been in Sydney since the passing of the AMC-AUS working visa, but can’t apply, because I am already in Australia. So, basically, I need to leave the country, apply, be approved, and then I can return and work. Easy, right? Nope, because I’ve been traveling the world on a fraudulent passport (ok, I’m exaggerating—there’s a misspelling with my last name). So really what I need to do is call the US Consulate (weekdays between 2p and 4p), schedule an appointment to present my passport dilemma, wait several weeks for my new passport, leave the country, apply for a working visa, wait for my approval, and then enter the country again. And how, you ask, can I afford this if I don’t have a working visa in the first place? Very good question, observant reader, very good question.
I know, I could call in to the folks searching for bi/lesbian girls to roll around naked for a shoot, make out a bit, get some pics taken, walk away with nudey prints, sell the nudey prints, and then take off on my shit-ass adventure. Tempting—very tempting.
This whole working visa rigmarole is really starting to be a pain in the ass. I’ve been in Sydney since the passing of the AMC-AUS working visa, but can’t apply, because I am already in Australia. So, basically, I need to leave the country, apply, be approved, and then I can return and work. Easy, right? Nope, because I’ve been traveling the world on a fraudulent passport (ok, I’m exaggerating—there’s a misspelling with my last name). So really what I need to do is call the US Consulate (weekdays between 2p and 4p), schedule an appointment to present my passport dilemma, wait several weeks for my new passport, leave the country, apply for a working visa, wait for my approval, and then enter the country again. And how, you ask, can I afford this if I don’t have a working visa in the first place? Very good question, observant reader, very good question.
I know, I could call in to the folks searching for bi/lesbian girls to roll around naked for a shoot, make out a bit, get some pics taken, walk away with nudey prints, sell the nudey prints, and then take off on my shit-ass adventure. Tempting—very tempting.
Monday, December 31, 2007
If it weren’t for the fact that you are completely miserable,
I would be quite jealous and envious,
But because your money cannot buy your happiness,
I am not nearly as affected by your ever-presence—
Though having your name arise in the majority of conversations
Is annoying, your pedestal is lowered
By this ongoing self-pity, which has prevented you from retaining
What it seems you cherish most…
Or maybe you have just had an unlucky run…
And in turn I have lucked out, because if I had these stories—
Of your wealth, career, and random quirks—
And you were happy on top of it all,
I’d slowly be destroying myself in your shadow
And even more resentful than I already am…
But because you wallow in your money, work too hard, and are alone,
I rise above you despite the facts,
And I am happy, unlike you, at least for a little while…
Until you are next mentioned and bring me down again
But I guess it would be rude if I didn’t thank you
For all of the charitable contributions—
The clothes, loans, and secondhand goods (boyfriend included)—
So thank you, ever present one, and maybe someday
I can forget you long enough
And it will be then that I can finally stop resenting you.
I would be quite jealous and envious,
But because your money cannot buy your happiness,
I am not nearly as affected by your ever-presence—
Though having your name arise in the majority of conversations
Is annoying, your pedestal is lowered
By this ongoing self-pity, which has prevented you from retaining
What it seems you cherish most…
Or maybe you have just had an unlucky run…
And in turn I have lucked out, because if I had these stories—
Of your wealth, career, and random quirks—
And you were happy on top of it all,
I’d slowly be destroying myself in your shadow
And even more resentful than I already am…
But because you wallow in your money, work too hard, and are alone,
I rise above you despite the facts,
And I am happy, unlike you, at least for a little while…
Until you are next mentioned and bring me down again
But I guess it would be rude if I didn’t thank you
For all of the charitable contributions—
The clothes, loans, and secondhand goods (boyfriend included)—
So thank you, ever present one, and maybe someday
I can forget you long enough
And it will be then that I can finally stop resenting you.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Coming to you From the Melbourne Airport
Dear people (over age 15) who travel on planes with pillows from home,
Because you are traveling with your very own and very special pillow, I am completely aware of the fact that you are not well traveled or accustomed to flying. However, do know that pillows are frequently provided for passengers on planes. This means you can save yourself the humiliation of carrying your dirty-ass pillow through the airport. And it will save other travelers as well, because, quite frankly, the rest of the world has no interest in seeing how greasy your hair is or how much you drool.
So next time you’re flying to see your friends and family, think of the others you may offend along the way, and leave mickey, hello kitty, and smelly yellow at home. Thanks in advance for your cooperation and thank you for choosing to fly with us. Enjoy your stay in beautiful Sydney (where hotels/motels/hostels provide pillows as well).
Because you are traveling with your very own and very special pillow, I am completely aware of the fact that you are not well traveled or accustomed to flying. However, do know that pillows are frequently provided for passengers on planes. This means you can save yourself the humiliation of carrying your dirty-ass pillow through the airport. And it will save other travelers as well, because, quite frankly, the rest of the world has no interest in seeing how greasy your hair is or how much you drool.
So next time you’re flying to see your friends and family, think of the others you may offend along the way, and leave mickey, hello kitty, and smelly yellow at home. Thanks in advance for your cooperation and thank you for choosing to fly with us. Enjoy your stay in beautiful Sydney (where hotels/motels/hostels provide pillows as well).
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
two days in paris
i went to the movies last night. alone. and yes, i do feel the need to mention that i went "alone", because it makes me feel way more independent than i really am. and that's something i need right now.
prior to going in, i picked up some promo material on the film. learned that julie delpey had also been in a film called Killing Zoe. i laughed out loud. and since i had already decided that Two Days in Paris was going to reveal all on my current relationship, i knew this Killing Zoe business was just another connection.
based on the TDP trailer alone, i had concluded that i was the american boyfriend (skeptical and out of place) and that big was the french blonde (witty and stocked to the rim with ex girlfriends).
three minutes into the film, i no longer wanted to be the neurotic, paranoid, irritating american, so i spent the next 45 minutes dwelling on it. and though there were major connections to my life throughout the film, i decided that marion and jack were not luca and big. and though a little disappointed, i was ok and enjoyed the film anyway. quite a bit.
prior to going in, i picked up some promo material on the film. learned that julie delpey had also been in a film called Killing Zoe. i laughed out loud. and since i had already decided that Two Days in Paris was going to reveal all on my current relationship, i knew this Killing Zoe business was just another connection.
based on the TDP trailer alone, i had concluded that i was the american boyfriend (skeptical and out of place) and that big was the french blonde (witty and stocked to the rim with ex girlfriends).
three minutes into the film, i no longer wanted to be the neurotic, paranoid, irritating american, so i spent the next 45 minutes dwelling on it. and though there were major connections to my life throughout the film, i decided that marion and jack were not luca and big. and though a little disappointed, i was ok and enjoyed the film anyway. quite a bit.
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