I wanted to go Tom Bergens for lunch, but I was dressed a bit too casual. Shorts and a muscle shirt (not that I have any muscles, but the last time I called this a tank, a co-worker corrected me). Either she thinks I have enough muscles to wear a muscle shirt, or tanks are stricktly feminine, no uni-sex here. Melrose was my last stop, so I decide to drive down Sunset on my way back. I stop at Guitar Center and ask about the pedals. I wanted some idea of how a wammy bar pedal sounds. They're so nice there, I was given a set of headphones and a guitar to play around. Upon hearing some of the musicians testing out guitars/speakers, without headphones, I felt real, real don't-know-what-I'm-doing here. Is this how you hold a guitar? I wish I could play half as good.
I bought myself new shoes. Unfortunately, they're the wrong color. I want black, but I got tan. I'm not color blind. I just couldn't make up my mind. I have the rest of the day to sloth around and read. Just when I thought I'd never find another novel with a twisted storyline, I find a copy of one of Vladimir Nabokov's honorable mentions. I really can't write sex scenes myself and I'm hoping this book will give me confidence to tackle sensuality between two heterosexual, same-generation, partners. The reason I relate so well with Lolita is because… well. Wait until the screenplay is complete and then ask if you may read it. I may say yes.