Wednesday, March 7, 2012

still-sound 48. Swingers

There's a collection of matches in my junk drawer.  I can't resist pocketing a nice matchbook if it's offered.  It's my childish desire to have souvenirs.

I found the Swan matches at the flat in London as I cleaned around the fireplace.  This was the last time I was  there, in fact  I was cleaning to make the place presentable for the next inhabitants.  I don't remember having ever bought the matches.  I like them because they remind me of London.

I like the Swingers Diner on Beverly Boulevard because it reminds me of LA.  Whenever I would visit Los Angeles as a tourist from London I would eat there.  I still like to eat there.  The female servers wear thigh high boots and look as though they are auditioning for a remake of Faster Pussycat Kill Kill.  They have Betty Page haircuts and their arms are covered in tattoos.  There seem to be different people working each time I visit, but they mostly all have the same look.  There is a bowl by the front door full of Swingers matches.  Along the top it reads "Ass, cash or grass - nobody eats for free!"  I like the bravado in this statement.  I wonder what they would think if I offered to pay for my tuna melt and fries with one of the non-cash payment options.

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