February 9th, 2010 3:59pm
I Earned My Summer
The Irrepressibles - “Nuclear Skies”
“Now, without any reasons, without any context, tell me how you feel.” Unable to answer this nonsensical question, I snicker and twirl a pen. This guy is really something. He thinks he's some kind of magician or something, he might as well be wearing a tuxedo. He speaks with that kind of flourish, he sounds like he's unveiling a statue every time he talks. May I present...Anastasia! or some bullshit. “I don't know. Scared.” “Good, excellent. Hold on to that.” Fuck him. Fuck his golf shirt and his khakis and his salad breath and his bike helmet and his too-many keys. Fuck his beautiful wife. Or maybe he's gay. Oh well, fuck 'em both. “It's only 'cause I'm up against this case and I can't afford a better lawyer than y--” He was holding up his finger to his lips. Goddamn magician lips. I let out a big sigh, fell back in my chair, and put my feet up on his stupid coffee table. He talked for an hour about what he was going to do to defend my case, all the evidence he was going to present and all the people he was going to question. Instead, I kept hearing he was planning dance numbers and pyrotechnics to get me off. Valentine's album launch] Read more at Said The Gramophone →- Dan Beirne

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