2005-03-23 || 1:29 p.m. || covert operations || staying in a motel mid-week makes me feel like a secret agent. there were cigarette burns on the tub and a lamp was busted and the tv reception hampered a pivotal, i am assured, episode of the starlet. the freeway was quite literally a stone's throw from the door and i kept peeking out the window from behind light-blocking curtains because my location somehow begged for it. getting found out. leaving the room with hands up and all apologies; i know it's a school night. i know i haven't come up with a convincing excuse for my certain tardiness to work in the morning. my jacket does in fact smell like a honky tonk; it just seemed fitting in that place to drink lots of beer and smoke cigarettes on the bedspread they charge $90 for if you steal it. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |