3 movies and 7 trips to the bathroom later

I’m up in the air.

Yeah, somewhere above Boston. I’ve always liked being above the clouds. It’s like that Jodi Mitchell song. And because I’ve once again devoured the stewardess’ cart of red wine, I’m seeing things with a splash melancholy, just a hint of apprehension.

Luckily I didn’t pass up on the complementary bread roll this time. But you know, I like symmetry. And I like things coming full circle. Except, on this side of the circle, I am furnished with a bruised elbow from falling down my stairs in a drunken furry, without a shower in the last 30 hours, and absolutely no money besides 20 cents in Swiss franks.

I’m kinda like a half moon cookie. The dark side.

And now they are telling me to Please stow all portable electronics. My head is warm and I’ve just tortured myself with movies such as P.S. I love you and Leap Year, and I’ve decided my life really IS a movie.

We have started our initial descent, god damn.

There was this little poll I created back on the 4th of January. It asked my readers, What would you like to read more about? It was unanimously voted that my life leaves something to be questioned, and something to be entertainingly ridiculous.

Well, I’ve watched the number of days listed below the poll tick by over the last few months. I remember looking at it when it was 117. And then it hit 53. And today, it clicked to 0. If all of our days are numbered, then why do I keep counting?

Yes I stole that from a Killers song. Yes the stewardess (“flight attendant”) is yelling at me again. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, (**SLURS WORDS WITH RED WINE TEETH), MY WRITING IS ALL I HAVE….”

Yes, I’m back in America. Bloody wankers.