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Daniel, then, questioned the possible outcomes his situation had harnessed. He thought about all his school chums of the past. Kenny was a successful drug dealer with no aims or aspirations to conquer anything besides making rent on time. Alan was simultaneously the premiere floral and compost adviser in the garden section of a Hall-mart, and Kenny’s number one customer. Marcus had a career as a high school nurse. He received a prestigious education, a prestigious degree, from a prestigious school, and now, at most, with vigor, applies band-aids and prescribes sleep in the nurses’ examination bed for an entire class period. He does so with undefinably prestigious passion. Even Daniel’s first high school girlfriend Kimberly, (which took place during Senior Prom, only) became a police officer and an internet wholesaler of unnecessary (ninja) equipment, and homemade jewelry. During high school, Kim tried out for both the cheerleading squad and the football team and stole a spot in one of those. She still, and has never never held a pom-pom. Daniel thought, all the things you could been could be found in the town you never had the intention of naturally dying in. The yearn for a meaning or a greater purpose in the world, only meant and amounted to how persuasive your excuses were.
Daniel stood brooding in the pick a cart, any cart section of the market lobby, brooding over the accomplishments people he knew had made, and decided he could get over his silly inclination to drink, and accomplish the goal. Daniel changed the ringtone on his cellphone to one that would encourage him, as he placed the Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlet into an unused shopping cart. “Baby steps, baby. That’s how accomplishments happen,” Daniel thought, “how pathetic would I look if I couldn’t fulfill the only goal I’ve ever wanted to accomplish?” Bells were not rung, not a single toast was made, and not a facetious soul cheered or tackled.

The cart he unknowingly claimed with a pamphlet had a wheel that steered slightly to the left, but angled the cart sideways to compensate the piece of crap. “It’s no trouble,” he thought, “There! Now I’ve conquered this bitch.” And that’s when his cellphone went off. Confused at first, Daniel then realized the improbability of anyone else with “Paranoid Android,” (by Radiohead) as a ringtone was strong, despite his intention of having “No Suprises” instead. He reached for his phone in his back right pocket, brought it up to his face, and saw digits to a phone number calling. The number wasn’t saved among his contacts so it only showed up at a number with a vaguely familiar area code. “Hello?” Daniel asked, with one hand holding the cart at course-compensating angle.
“I knew it was you, I saw you in the parking lot,” pause. “I can’t believe you still have the same number! It’s been like, ten years!” said the male voice in a dizzyingly enthusiastic manner.
“Yeah, my lucky set of numbers. They’ve always reached to me, in a way.” Daniel said dryly as he looked at the different sauces that were meant to change the way the fish tasted. Daniel believed everyone he ever knew were like fish with many kinds of sauces lathered on them which was meant to suppress much of the distaste they initially came with. He placed the sauce jar back on the rack. Daniel was always a black coffee, salt and pepper, on-the-rocks, kind of guy. He thought, “if some fucker took seven measly minutes to ponder then invent these things, how rude would I be to suggest they should’ve done this or that, instead? That’s like telling the bartender you liked his idea for a drink, respected the faith he had in it’s glory, and then telling him not to quit his “day job,” as you slowly finished his drink.
“Haha, you’re funny! I was afraid what they said was true about you
Hollywood types; you say what the writers say, and laugh when a casting director has something you want,” said the voice, “and plus the drugs and booze therapy that EVERYONE ELSE has to pay for.”
“I haven’t gotten to the drugs yet, but, the year doesn’t end for another six months.” said Daniel, after realizing he, and the world lurked in the birth-month of the first and only love he’d ever had.
“Yeah sure, what are you getting in there? Better be some fuckin’ sour cream and onion potato chips. I’m coming in to make sure.” After realizing the caller’s identity,
“Son of a bitch, I don’t believe it. Kenny? Is that you?”
“Yeah, baby! If you’re not in the Chips section, I’m gonna fuck your mom. How’s she doing?”
“Good question.”
“Sorry, I forgot. Come say hi and hold hold my hand, faggot.”
“That’s rude, even for you.”
“I said I forgot!” Kenny pleaded. “Sorry!”
“No, the other thing.”
“Oh. What, you went fag in Hollywood?” Kenny used fag in his daily repertoire, despite it’s context, though he did have shining qualities. He despised animal abuse so much as to not wear leather. Like a vegan. Kenny had no problem eating them.
“No.” Daniel couldn’t stand arguing with him over political corrections. They never ended, though each of Kenny’s points became less and less sensible. The problem with it, Daniel thought, was that Kenny believed every word he said.
“Whoooooa there, Mr. Hollywood, I’m just kidding. It’s fine if you’re a fag.”
“Things don’t change around here, do they?” Daniel said as he placed a bag of sour cream and onion chips on top of the twelve pack of the cheapest beer he found, which was on top of the Alcoholics Anonymous pamphlet. Drinking was like a camera lens filter, blocking or accenting the malicious and unnecessary elements of the immediate world for the photograph. Daniel drank to filter out the idiocracies and hopelessness of life.
“What? Everything’s changed, man. Hey, I see you.” They hung up. Daniel looked around and found Kenny. He was wearing fitted jeans, dark blue running sneakers, a plain white T-shirt, and his football Letterman from high school. Outside the new lip-ring, Kenny dressed like Kenny.

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We Saw the Lights

5 a.m. on a saturday morning isn’t usually a time where any normal human being would like to be awake. unfortunately, you don’t always have that option. joey and i had to beat the morning traffic to get to beverly hills by 8 for a mandatory meeting.

i spent an hour waking up and arrived at joey’s at 6. i had finished a can of low-carb monster, but it failed to fulfill it’s purpose. i slept on his couch for the next 20 minutes while he got ready, and tried calling his uncle Louie for the ride he supposedly promised us. no answers. fucking great. fortunately he lived about 3 blocks away, so we decided to walk over to his house to wake him up. then we saw the lights

in a rickety sundried red dodge neon came Louie, speeding down the street. we flagged him down but he shouted in a suspenseful tone, “give me one minute! one minute! i gotta drop something off! one minute!” and disappeared as fast as he came. joey and i had the “what the fuck,” looks.

we walked the direction his skidmarks embedded and saw him waiting. we jumped in the car as he sped towards the freeway, asking directions to where we were headed… 8 times in a row. he was clearly not himself. he mentioned his exploits of the previous night, which still counted as the same day for him. paranoid of every car on the freeway, he smoked his cigarette in his little red dodge neon, forgetting to lower his window.

when we got to the exit, in which was named aloud about 8 times to him, he opted to drop us off right there, forcing us to walk the remaining 4 or so miles. we convinced him to take us a bit further and he did, while being weary of the random car that has been following us. in my logical defense, it wasn’t possible for that car behind to be following us, it was a single lane on melrose ave. everyone’s following everyone.

when we got to highland and beverly, he screamed at us to get out of the car and we did, in fear of a high speed pursuit. but nothing happened, in fact he drove down the street joey and i were forced to walk now. that was enlightening.

when we finally got to the place the meeting was held, we realized we had about 40 minutes to spare. the plaza was gorgeous and they even had mounties patrolling the premises. joey bought himself some lemonade to quench his thirst from that 1.7 mile walk, as stated by mapquest.

while he did that, i hung out with the neighborhood kids and made friends with a puppy named copper.

seeing as how we were two grown men swashbuckling with children at lemonade stands, we decided it’d be best to explore the town, at least before the mounties found us. and boy was that town magnificient.

we still had plenty of time to spare, so explorative exercises were enforced. i even tried to get gas but the pump didn’t except visa…

we got to the meeting just a bit earlier than everyone else so the orange juice and donut collections had not yet been scathed. since i disliked donuts, i opted for a tall glass of the oj, while joey scarfed one down. people in pj’s started slowly accumulating within the room so i didn’t feel too bad about wearing a shredded cardigan.

throughout the meeting, joey and i learned nothing, not because we were clincally retarded, but because there was nothing TO learn. the only thing we left with, was the pride of not being from THEIR factory. we were simply much more cooler cats from pasadena then these snobbish beverly hillians. but we didn’t leave without rubbing that tiny little fact either.

so we set out to look for a way to get home because Louie was probably half way to mexico by now. there’s no one you should trust more, than the los angeles county metro transit authority. so we poppled down at a bus stop and waited. falling asleep. and waited. waited some more. and waited a little further, then boom! we got on the bus. this particular bus was destined for Union station where we could transfer busses to get home. except, joey paid my fair, and i only had a card so i had to get cashback somewhere, but eh, i’ll worry about that later.

we ended up getting off sooner because we actually knew the bus we had to take was just around the corner as soon as we reached downtown la. the city where everyone has a problem with everything. we soaked up the grand avenue view, and started walking to the stop.

“fuck… we don’t have bus fare,” we walked to several outdoor foodcourts to find that not a single one of them supported cashback. in dire need of coffee, i went to the coffeeshops first. i even opted to buy a yogurt and sell it for cash afterwards.

there were countless atm’s but i didn’t need to pull out 20 dollars and neither did i need the extra 2 dollar fee that came with the withdrawal. we walked all over downtown LA to find cashback. but it’s impossibility became apparent.

walking around without a worry to be anywhere anytime soon proved to be much more fulfilling than i had assumed. we even went to the bradbury historical landmark place. why it’s historical? i don’t know, but it sure looked pretty in there.

while there, i saw a large group of tourists that were taking pictures. but they had to interchange each of their members cause they all wanted to be in it. so i offered to lend my photographic expertise to them. (in which i had none.) but gave them several sexy shots they could remenisce about in the future. i hope they remember that sexy little asian man with a mustache took it for them. through the accumulated karma from that, the lady at the reception desk was helpful in informing us about a wells fargo bank nearby. that’s my bank!

we set out with our newfound coordinates to locate the branch and i saw a cute little cafe in a hidden alley where i wanted to take rachel, but i can’t worry about that now. we found the bank and was able to pull out the necessary amount i needed. i even made friends with the girl at the desk named Damariz, she really hated to park around here where she works.

joey and i left and found a smart sportsbar where it seemed to be a fan of every team. now that’s a good marketing strategy.

but we also found these weird pillars that were erected as aesthetics in some place that you’d never really imagine it being in. it had a thin layer of water trickling down and made it seem like you were inside of a clock. it was significant to me because i had not worried about time, the entire day.

upon walking back to the bus stop at the civic center, we noticed this awkwardly placed gem.

it was in the middle of a business driven downtown la, in which it’s pedestrians were mainly suits and ties and dress skirts and suit pants and etc.
after contemplating marriage and a free paleta, we pressed on.

during the bus ride, joey and i talked about kids. because this woman got on the bus with four of her own. it was an interesting conversation and i’ll leave it at that.

we ended up getting off on our stop, and started walking from lively mainstreet towards his house. we crossed through the apartments that still look way too awesome to be there.

but the day wasn’t over. as an added bonus to top off our morning, joey had forgetten his keys, and i had to become the frogman to let him into his own house. being limber and asian, i was the natural desicion.

the rest of the day was just as good, the only difference was there was less walking involved, but i did meet the owner of a ’74 kz1000. *drool*

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