18:44:06 - 2000-07-07
breakfast
Seven o'clock sunday morning and the sprinklers are hissing. I discover some ground beef floating in an ice chest poolside. An hour later the haze is starting to burn off and the veterans of yesterday's bacchanal sit down to a cheeseburger breakfast; washing the greasy goodness down w/cold beer...everything tasting just a little bit like coppertone spf30. There's a lazy kind of sadness to the valley...it's like you're stoned at the airport as your girlfriend departs on a business trip- only you folded time in a dream you don't remember the night before and you saw her fall in love with someone else in this other city. It's like you're stoned and she's on xanex...and the goodbye kiss is wrong like a missed high-five.
It's like Jeff Porcaro stung by bees. That's the valley.
