By M.G. Maloney
so i was at ian covell's going away party last night in burbank- yes, burbank. on my way there my roommate questioned the location the bar. and i must confess, i thought to my self, 'if he thinks burbank is LA, perhaps that is why he is leaving.' but that was before i experienced the blue room.
yes, the commute is really to burbank. "sunny burbank," is what i want to say. and, of course i got lost on my way there. being that i'm single, driving at night somewhere i've never been before, it's pretty fucking annoying when i get lost. by myself. it sucks. i went the wrong way on Alameda exit- go east, not west from L.A. i ended up in toluca lake. whatever. lame suburb.
get to blue bar and awesome, they have their own parking lot and double awesome, it's well lit and hell, burbank is clean. the streets and sidewalks are clean. it's kinda nice.
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the party was dope. saying goodbye is fun in LA. it's like, "happy trails to you," (insert: janis joplin's cover version) and i'm genuinely happy for people to leave who hate it here. LA sucks serious time and psychic energy. i'm serious. it's a time vortex. a soul-sucker. and the two options i see in dealing with LA is (1) thicken the fuck out of your skin (2) leave. so i'm still on number one, but this may it'll be the 4th anniversary of my time served in LA. i hate telling people how long i've been here- it's like a loser-detector. it sucks. but i hear the 6th year is when stuff starts to happen; between 6th and 10th if you're not lucky and are ready for a break when you are younger.
anyhoo, enjoy these pic.s of the blue room. fucking awesome place:
i just painted my nails purple; the hot pink straw reminded me of my cast. the colors suck on my camera phone:
this guy ruled. bar-hand. missing teeth, wearing a superman t-shirt, knit hat, weathered tan southern california skin; the dude helped me find a stinking o'douls beer.
anyhoo, he was out on the patio for a smoke break when this monstrocity of a vehicle, a pick-up truck from some serious chrome hell, rolls up. "u.s.a." is stenciled into the chrome below the bumper. i wasn't feeling ballsy enough to take a pic. well either that or i forgot. anyhoo, my leftist friends start mur-muring anti-war sentiment. me and a dude start changing "u.s.a." as one of the tiny dudes gets out of the cab. but who's all fired up and ballsy enough to say anything, superman. he yells, "Why don't you get a smaller car?!" and i found my self scared he was gonna get his ass kicked. but then realized, looking around the room, there's more of us, than them. and i'm sick and tired of not shouting my views. fuck you, pick up truck- send your penis to iraq.
