Saturday, August 1, 2009

Nearly 130AM.

I inherited this executive office chair from a friend who moved to Chicago, big black plush thing, something I can near curl up in. It's good for slouching back and letting yourself relax into the keyboard.

Bedroom window is open, sounds of traffic on the main highway a few blocks away. I have laundry running downstairs. Everyone's asleep, even the cats. My feet are sore, eyes drifting, wearing an oversized pair of men's sleeppants with the "Nintendo" logo scattered across. I picked these up a few years ago, comfy and with pockets- something you'll find on few women's sleeppants. I don't find this particularly practical, so I'll wear men's when the mood strikes.

After work, I drove down to the Mahattan Beach Pier, totally ignorant of the International Surf Festival. Something along those lines. Something about it being international and having to do with surfing. And maybe a festival. Create your own phrase.

It wasn't too crowded, which was nice, but the street was still packed with people.

I like to refer to Manhattan Beach as the Orange County of LA. It's, for all intents and purposes, Newport Beach, Huntington Beach, and Laguna Beach packed into a significantly smaller space. This means less parking and lots of hot blondes.

I sat at the Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf down there and wrote. I also eavesdropped on several conversations, the most interesting of which was a pair of men that looked to be in their forties, talking about scoring chicks and how one of them hated to see their faces across the bed from him in the morning when he got up, so he'd invent excuses for them to leave or him to leave before actual sleep occured.

He said his favorite was, "I need to pick my mom up at the airport at 6AM tomorrow morning."

They weren't unattractive, just a bit older, with that Mahattan Beach bachelor vibe, the one that smells of money and misogyny.

Eventually, they left. I was disappointed by this, actually, because I wanted to hear more stories, more excuses, about more chicks they've banged.

My friend, T, showed up a little after that, having fought the good fight for a parking space. We walked down to the Mahattan Beach version of Denny's: The Kettle, snagged some food and headed over to The Troubadour.

Note to all of you: StellaStar* live is an incredibly boring show. The only thing I found redeeming was their bassist, a hot auburn-haired chick with great legs. But even watching her play wasn't enough to entertain me, so T and I sat there, bored, hoping for something to happen.

On the plus side, we ended up in great balconey seats, right on the edge, as they opened the reserved section as we were standing next to it. Win.

On the negative side, not much worth watching.

Show ended, we both heaved sighs of relief, and departed, him swearing to boycott that band live forevermore.

You see, he had high hopes. I, I had never heard of them. He asked me if I wanted to go, and I said yes, and that was it. So it wasn't too much of a letdown.

And I think I'm going to bed. Just needed to let go some words in order to wind down.


  1. They weren't unattractive, just a bit older, with that Manhattan Beach bachelor vibe, the one that smells of money and misogyny.

    Being anti-feminist and not wanting to settle down into marriage or non-married relationship monogomy is not misogynist, particularly in these oppressive to men divorce, child support=alimony and alimony times. Particularly in California.

    Nor is a male desire to reassert some male primacy for once, at least from their own point of view. Or, if you want to call that misogyny, then fine. We need more of it to counteract the raging misandry that the feminist media and schools have wrought in America.

    More misogyny may be necessary for many men to fully get their manhood back in this heavily and unprecedentedly feminist society, that tries to teach most smart or smartish men to be female deferring wimps.

    On the other hand, maybe they were just the sort of man who doesn't like women - any women - for anything other than f*cking. That's something else.

    I guess what I'm trying to say is that I hate the casual use of the term misogyny these days, in the most misandrous media and other culture in history. It tends to mean not toeing that line; though it can mean I said in the immediately preceding 'graph. Feminists created and continue to exploit this dual meaning.

  2. Fine.

    You don't feel like responding to the best comments you've ever gotten on your blog, and I'll stop giving you any.

    This one btw was my least significant one to you. Obviously. But the most recent.

  3. "You don't feel like responding to the best comments you've ever gotten on your blog, and I'll stop giving you any."

    The author of this blog should condsider herself blessed.

  4. Hi doug1,

    I know you haven't been reading this long, so you're not aware that I'm very... er... strapped for time. And prone to bouts of anti-social behavior.

    I had been planning on responding to your comments on Friday afternoon, as I mentioned over at Roissy's blog, but work bogged me down fairly hardcore. The rest of the weekend has been much of a busy blur, the times when I have been able to sit down at a computer have been consumed by my need to write. I have to budget my time because I have a couple active blogs, and my own personal writing projects, so if I run out of response and social-time and I haven't gotten to someone or something yet, thems the breaks until I'm done writing whatever it is I'm working on.

    What you said in your first comment, I did read shortly after you posted it and mulled it over for awhile and had planned on rereading it a few times and letting it soak in once I came into the office this morning. I'm still thinking about it, actually.

  5. Thanks Poetry.

    That annoyed comment of mine above was a bit over the top.