Sinister: Storytelling

[Oscar Vivanco]

the movie and not the time.
So I went to the movie and sat alone and for some reason or another there
were all these cute "indie" rock girls and I was wondering if they were here
for the B at S soundtrack or for the Solondz-satirical-sickness.  Four girls,
all sitting apart but all within two rows of me and each other.  We all
checked out each other.  I wonder what they thought of me and the other
girls.  One girl sat RIGHT in front of me and luckily she wasn't very tall
and I didn't have to move.  So I'm scooping the beautiful girls and I get
the urge to pee, having just drunk a mocha, and washed it down with a bottle
of water.  So I go.  And come back and then I start thinking, did I go all I
had to go?  I mean do I have a little pee left, because I can guarantee that
I will have to go during the movie.  So I get up again as the trailers are
starting and go again.  This time I catch weird looks from the two in front
of me and one just to the side.
The movie was silly.  I don't know what I thought of it just yet.  I have to
process.  There are four new songs I think.... I'm not sure.  They also
played The State That I Am In.
That's my story. about the movie.


But then I went to a bookstore called, and I'm not making this up, A CLEAN,
WELL-LIT PLACE TO BUY BOOKS, ok maybe I'm making up the last part, but its
got this ridiculous name, but lo and behold there are the indie girls from
the movie.  I think of asking one of them about the movie as she makes eye
contact several times.  I don't.  Instead I look at the blank books and I
thumb through the new bizarre and buy a new pen and leave without talking to
the cute girls who are still there being cute.
That's my story. about the indie rock girls at the bookstore.


But when I went to buy the blank book, my Hopper sticker book for one
dollar, and my two dollar pen, I forget that I haven't spoken in probably
three or four hours to anyone at all and my voice comes out like a thin,
sqeaky pencil and the girl behind the counter looks at me like I'm retarded.
I clear my throat, but it doesn't help, I realize I sound like Michael
Jackson.  
That's my story. about the bookstore girl who probably laughed at me and
told her coworkers about me and Mike Jackson.


I have one question.
Who is Mike LOVE?

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