John called this afternoon around 4. I didn't pick up. He text-messaged me. I text-messaged back.
4:21p "Hey fucker r we rollin?"
4:37p I dont really feel up to it. Is that ok? Did you talk to Bret? Im at work so I cant answer the phone.
5:03p "Dont be a pussy or a bitch or a queer. tom is rolling u big girl."
To this I did not respond. I couldn't think of anything appropriate to respond with. He sent me another message:
7:14p "Hey call me dude."
John then called me at 7:16p from a number I didn't recognize. Knew it was him. Didn't answer.
Called me again at 7:20p from his own phone and left "Hey, call me," on my voice mail.
Called me again at 7:30p and said "Hey, asshole, call me."
Called me again at 8:33p and sang "Asshole, asshole, call me: that's your new song."
I finally called him back around 9:15p. He had wanted to get a beer. Now he was watching the Angels and couldn't talk.
* * * * *
Instead of seeing John I drove down to Sunset and Vine and met my dear friend Madison. We sat at a coffee shop and suffered through a couple of open mic performances and then walked down to Borders where I didn't buy a thing (so proud of myself). It was just nice to see her and spend time with her and give her encouragement. The evening was buoyed by the fact that I found actual free street parking in this area of town. Who knew it was possible? Right place. Right time.
I started watching Wong Kar-Wai's In the Mood for Love today and I would've finished it but the DVD was damaged, so I sent it back to Netflix. This movie is fantastic. I cannot wait to see the end of it.
I'm always praising movies in this space. I don't feel bad about it, though, because I see about twice as many as I talk about here. It seems silly to talk about movies that are only so-so or crappy. So I only really remark on the good ones and the really terrible ones.