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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