Ok, so I went to sleep at around 06:00, after chatting with Mlle. Malcontent about some torrid, tasteless mass sexual event (or was it Sexual Event Mass? Fucking Catholics.) she attended involving manila rope, cheese doodles, fly-paper and a metronome. I actually needed sleep evidently, and ended up rising at 15:00 PST.

I threw on some pants, (’cause like Jack, “I like sleepin’ in the Nooood!”) and headed downstairs. No usual paper-retrieval antics this morning, not in the mood.

I was pretty cooked last night, I met up with a couple of friends (I’ll call them Nigella and Julia to protect the innocent) at Habana and we had tapas and lots of wine. Good times ensued.

Good-Time Party Guy had to leave his car at Memphis last night because he suspected that he would probably have some trouble fitting the compact sports coupe into the two-car garage, without a high probability of peeling off both side mirrors, a tail-light and the door moulding. So I’m waiting for it to cool off outside so I can skate down the mile-or-so to retrieve my motor-coach.

I was making “breakfast” (I guess it counts, it’s the first meal of the day), and I needed some ambient noise in the living room to keep me company and to ward off some of the post-binge depression that inevitably follows a night of je ne sais quoi and joie de vivre. I couldn’t see listening to anything on HBO or any of the other cable channels, I don’t like news channels because I’m fucking sick of hearing about Hurricane Eyesore or whatever. So I went through my newly-arrived Netflix selections.

-The Dancer Upstairs
-Dirty Pretty Things
-Sex and Lucia
and…
-Before Sunrise…

Now I rented this film because I have not seen it in about five years, and I whole-heartedly wanted to see Before Sunset in the theater. However, I hate live music and I hate going to theaters even more. So, I’ll wait to see it in a month or so, when it comes out on DVD. Anyway, I put it in the DVD player, turned on all the aural and visual electronic accoutrements and went back to preparing a lovely Croque Monsieur with sliced papaya (seasoned with lime, salt and Japanese Ichimi chili powder, ‘natch). I also had three beverages, a short glass of organic blackberry juice, an espresso with turbinado sugar and a half-litre of Penta water (I was so dehydrated this morning that my piss looked like pus. But anyway…back to the movie.)

I love pure dialogue movies. The subleties implied and expressed by Delpy and Hawke are amazing and authentic. And frankly, I don’t think that I understood the movie the first time I saw it as I did this afternoon. (ArcAngel begs the question…)

Why?

There is a dance that people that are attracted to each other do when they meet On The Road. Savvy travelers do specifically. I think it has to do with watching your wallet, your travel docs and your backpack (or, in my case, a really stunning Tumi messenger bag in black ballistic nylon). You know you’re going to get physical at some point, but you need to make sure there aren’t any firearms, knives or PrimaCord and C-4 involved. Before Sunrise does the most amazing job of capturing the sublime mundity of the due diligence conversations conducted in the glorious pursuit of getting some “En Tour”.

I was watching the film, imagining myself back in HCMC, VietNam (Hi Lan), or The Recoleta, Buenos Aires (Victoria, tu eres una diablita), Edinburgh, Scotland (Hi Shannyn)…you get the message. The conversations I have had…good God…were all like the conversations in this movie at one point or another. Not to pull a “Carrie Bradshaw” or anything like that.

Anyway, thought I would share a little bit of the downy side of this Seraphim’s wings. Back to slicing up mother-fuckers. I am the sword of God after all.

-ArcAngel