For the next 10 days, as my two friends trounce through the Tuscan fields, I'll be playing make believe and living in their humble abode above the Sunset Strip. They asked me because their dog is crazy and amazing and because she and I have a developing rapport. Situations like this sometimes make me stop and think about things like trust and why someone would give theirs to me...whether I would give it to me...whether the nightmares will start again now that I'm living in one of the city's tallest buildings.
I came back from the gym today, explained to the daytime shift of security that though I am a cretin, I was not there to make a delivery and that I would be staying in spread 802. I wandered, settled in, had a Pellegrino on the deck as the hyper sensitive dog judged me without approach for 30 minutes. 30 minutes! I was here last fucking night.
Did I mention the lighting? Just back from the gym? Or my overabundant self-love...camera in hand? Sometimes, I want to fuck myself. Perhaps one day, a great number of people will want me to do just that...
