expressline

Last Saturday the old Thursday hangout, Fireside Inn, closed its doors for good. Itapos;s being torn down to become . . . A bank parking lot. Discern the irony in that, folks.

So now weapos;re trying to find the next good place to go on Thursdays. Last night we tried Shenanigans, which has long been a clusterfuck of people. Last night was no different. At least this DJ is better. The girl that I was tagging around with, Crystal (sheapos;s entered into my phone as The Method), said, "Everyone here looks like a douchebag." "All the guys do, at least." "Youapos;ve got that right." Douchebags aside, it was still pretty fun. I left by 1:30 a.m. To go home and run a mile with the dog, then watch "A Woman Under the Influence" with Gena Rowlands, and write write write.

I am getting close on the novel. More than half a year of revisions should - if all goes according to plan - be finished by the end of this month. The next line Iapos;ll be re-typing in the novel comes from chapter 11 (of 16):

He wandered like this, along the curved roads of abandoned bliss for an hour or two before he found himself just outside The Yoon-Yun Hotel, his temporary residence for the three weeks they would be in L.A.
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