Memorial day without the mayhem

It's a holiday. The sun is shining. If you want to bbq come over to my house. I want to eat copious amounts of animal flesh and drink buckets of beer...

The injury is healing nicely if I have to say so myself. It's been about a week since I've had to take any pain killers. And I'm only using the crutches when I leave the house. Tomorrow the doctor should tell me that I can ditch the sticks all together. I can't wait...

As you all can probably guess from recent posts, I've developed a sort of obsession with Deerhunter. I went through their blog and downloaded all kinds of stuff. It's all that I've listened to this weekend. It has a way of making me feel very human while still completely detached from the world. I guess that's how I've been feeling a lot lately. It's been inspiring me to write though...

I made some pasta salad last night at midnight. I'm not sure why. I guess I didn't realize what time it was when I started. I even made the dressing from scratch. It has bacon and egg and peppers. I hope it's good. When I tried it last night I decided it should chill before I give it a final verdict...

I ate so many swedish fish last night that I thought I was going to puke. But it was soooo good...

I'm starting to make some decent progress on this 7 project I've been working on. Had a meeting last week and it totally changed my prospective on the whole thing. Here's another little teaser:

St. Christopher sits behind the wheel, slightly hunched, asks for the fare. His facial features and skin tone seem to change as if a cameleon gone into shock. He admires them all, then pretends like they were never there, as he continues to constantly watch them. The Vicario brothers board in a frenzy. Behind their eyes its apparent they haven't slept or eaten in days. Pedro can't stop tapping his foot, a beat resembling the national anthem. Pablo is picking the moles from his forearm with a knife he unwrapped from a newspaper. Pedro's arms jet up from stillness, fingers pointing forward as if to sign some great event. His satchel falls scattering watches, tobacco and a variety of hot sauces all across the ribbed floor. He attempts to sell a watch to a Korean immigrant before collapsing into sleep.

Hopefully I'll be able to get the rest of what's in my head adequately expressed within the confines of words. I just have to have faith in myself, which seems to be growing every day...