2005-03-07 - 6:16 a.m.
Last night while getting my Saab out of long term hock, I was hit with a wave of depression because at that moment it felt like the weekend was truly over.
My flights were uneventful and without drama. Or upgrades, but I suppose that is really all right. I was comfortable, and really, the microwaved meal and free cocktail where not really even missed. After Saturday, I don't think I'll be up for a cocktail anytime soon.
I also decided, that when I am rich and famous for my thoughts, when my observations and witty asides garner a following among the worlds elite, I will do all my writing at 30k, jotting them down onto a steno notebook with a mont blanc pen (although then definitly in first class, for the room and the illusion of personal space) which will be my trademark, my hook, my brand. It will be commercial air travel, mostly because though wealthy, it's nice to be frugal, and also because I want people to see me. Plus, despite my current loathing of them, I actually enjoy people, or rather, the company of strangers and the odd relationships that spring up on long distance flights, usually during take off and landing when people are nervous and reaching out for some sort of human contact to sooth them. During drink service and the movie it's easy to forget one is in the now tritely cool glued together aluminum tube high in the sky.
And, to amuse you before the link entry, Marry, Fuck or Kill: Carson Daily, Billy Bush, or Ryan Seacrest.
Zen and don't cry out loud - 2007-07-29
Zen and the stumbling rocks of fitness - 2007-07-19
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Zen and fasting - 2007-06-20
Zen and hiccups - 2007-06-18Guestbook Notes