entitled

...lets say i work at a "hip" eatery in a place where "everyone is an artist" in a town that exists on celluloid and make believe.
in this above mentioned town, place, work, people forgot who they are. their upbringing. their childhood. and MOST importantly humanity. no common decencies. no holding of doors proverbial or otherwise. simply "ME", "I WANT", "NOW", peppered with bravado and chest banging. or in the female of the species, passive aggressive posturing. lips permanentely pursed around a spewing of bad behavior. all of this and more. demands made. managers fetched. employees slowly developing permanent burning in the depths of their stomach. and why, what for, you ask? A FUCKING TABLE!

ant people

....panic set in as i left my beloved cave and ventured into the antfarm freeways of los angeles. just to go to the goddamn bank. beverly hills. yuck. humans everywhere. cell phones extended as tissue from the ear. it took me 2 hours round trip. venice to beverly hills and back. facist tellers at the bank fucking with MY money. my lousy money. replicant actress standing next to me. no trouble for her. i wanted to rip the umbilicle earpiece cord and strangle her with it. finally home. phew. melancholy fog rolling in. thank god.