And so to LAX. We’re back in 2013 now, with Version Thirteen, not its predecessor, Meltdown. But we’re still stuck in a familiar place - the airport.
This flight’s on the personal account. And the tight northern boy within has long pockets and short arms - so no fancy business class, just a flash of plastic and a longish (but never long enough) visit to BA’s business lounge.
The beer and the sandwiches are just as free as the not-free lunch of immutable economic fact. Too many flights, too many hours, but never enough time to have the dearly bought goodies that don’t appear to cost you any money in the sanitised sexiness of the soft-furnished salon…
Scripts to read this time. For other people, for my own soon-to-be launched movie fund. No chess problem, no Scarlett Johansson... Read More
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