Present Imperfect

T-Minus 8 Hours and Counting | October 02, 2005

It's 10:00 and my bedtime because I have to get up at six tomorrow, catch a plane, then go to work. On the plane, I shall pretend that this is how I always commute due to my superb fanciness. Or I might sleep. 50-50 chance, really.

So, here's how it goes: I left LA behind and it just doesn't care. It didn't need me and it doesn't even notice I'm gone. And anyway, it's got millions of people hurling themselves into its gaping maw, so it's got no reason to miss me. I guess I'll stop missing it now. Besides, there's no room left in the Missing Stuff Inn of my brain. Even the broom closets are full. I suppose I should try and make more room, or perhaps start a small metaphorical franchise, since the number of people and places I miss keeps growing exponentially.

I guess I'm not supposed to be blogging that kind of thing. I should be blogging about how I really enjoy the Editors album or that I've abandoned Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell for Freddy and Fredericka because the former was underwhelming and the latter is, um, far more whelming. Hilarious, in fact.

I could also mention that I'm watching the new HBO series "Rome," which should probably just be called "Fuck." I tuned in about 20 minutes ago, and already I've witnessed three sex scenes (two preteens, two women — naked except for gladiator helmets and swords — and a dude shouting at them to "really FIGHT" and one comparatively normal scene that ends with a slap and a torrent of tears), plus a slave being evaluated solely on his enormous cock. Incidentally, what does that actor put on his resume? I sincerely hope the casting director is a big Monty Python fan.