Lost Highway

If you don’t go to The Tote tonight, you’re a poor excuse for a man, you are a non-entity. Sub-human scum.

I’m going to the David Lynch Retrospective at Cinemateque. Should be fun. They’re showing Eraserhead and Lost Highway. I saw the former many years ago at Cinema 21 in NW Portland. I went with this guy who once exuberantly declared I was the devil during a despicable teenage drunk. The movie was one of the last times we ever spoke to each other. Not that words were exchanged afterwards – our tongues were tied. He probably walked me to my car and said Goodbye Satan.

Lost Highway was a recent anniversary gift from someone who feels strongly enough about me to get me Lost Highway as a gift for our anniversary. I haven’t watched it yet, I actually got in trouble for not watching it the other night and I told her I have been saving myself until I am married. A little joke. Tonight I will be deflowered by a thirty foot tall Bill Pullman. I have been waiting for this moment for quite some time. Meanwhile she'll be at The Tote.

Today is hump day and it’s out of control. The dance card is chock full. Shooting at Unarmed Men are playing for five measly dollars. I think they make real head-banger music that belies their shorthair and bubbly personalities.

De Campo works downtown and therefore has interesting lunch experiences. About the most exotic detail I can think of is the bain-marie, which I have referenced to death (most recent: September 29) or the fact the sausage rolls have doubled in size at the Tramline Cafe. I get the worst service there. The guy in leather sandals calls me mate flagrantly and I am ready to say why don’t you cut your toenails. The sausage rolls are so hot that by the time I get them back to work and let them cool they are soggy as all get out and barely edible, so it’s not pleasant and I am $2.50 out of pocket. Meanwhile at the back of some laneway in the city de Campo’s drinking Thai lager and stuffing hot beef into her voluptuous gob!