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Archive for April, 2001

 
|| April 13, 2001 || 10:23 am || Comments (0) ||

Happy Friday the 13th, y’all. At present I am on the phone with Bonzai, trying to coax her out of her house. She never leaves it on Friday the 13th. I think that this is utterly retarded and besides, I really want her to go shopping with me.

Damned Appalachian Mountain Folks and their strict adherence to superstition!

 
|| April 12, 2001 || 11:40 pm || Comments (0) ||

MAXIM: “How many vegetarians does it take to screw in a light bulb?”
ME: “I dunno, how many??”
MAXIM: “I don’t know either, but where do they get their protein?”
*here is where I laugh heartily*
MAXIM
: “See, man — it’s all in the delivery.”

 
|| April 12, 2001 || 11:28 pm || Comments (0) ||

Every so often I get an e-mail update regarding chickclick (not wasting any caps here, yo) that has a tagline like this one*:
“HEY GIRLS – Take a Bite of This Dish!”
Then I go, “Oh, okay, THAT’s why I never go there!” and hit ‘delete’ whilst feeling verrrrry refreshed.

*unaltered prose ripped straight from the most recent chickclick newsletter that I got, I SWEAR.

 
|| April 12, 2001 || 11:18 pm || Comments (0) ||

Now THIS is the way to write effectively.

 
|| April 12, 2001 || 11:17 pm || Comments (0) ||

Creepy.

I am nearly finished with “We the Living” by Ayn Rand. Started it on Tuesday and have snatched every conceivable moment to devour what is contained betwixt the covers. Then I run upon this site tonight.

Creepy.

 
|| April 12, 2001 || 10:57 pm || Comments (0) ||

Ladies and gentlemen, JOHN KUSCH!!!

 
|| April 12, 2001 || 9:47 pm || Comments (0) ||

The world as I see it at present
–or–
Thank God for sewage treatment facilities (for without them we would be in a world of shit….literally)

What is it about them? What is it about the boy who knows how to slide right inside you with low-slung, precisely off-delivered phrasings and the note held to … right….there? I remember first awakening to the dangerous quality of music thanks to Van Morrison, via Them. ‘Gloria‘…That song nicked things in me that I was just beginning to discover. If Bono lent depth and self-discovery in my spiritual arena, then surely Van Morrison sullied me sexually in a musical sense.

And after him came Jim Morrison and Otis Redding and Leonard Cohen and Mick Jagger and David Gahan and Sandman and Nick Cave and Shane MacGowan.

Jeez Pete, I nearly forgot Prince and Johnny Cash, rowr. And Curt Stigers, how could I forget HIM? And Iggy Pop….

There are SO many (Chris Cornell) that need to be included; those whose voices travel my nether regions and lift me up off of this menial plane of existence.

And how much do they know??

Unknown the unlit world of old / You’re the sounds I never heard before / Off the map where the wild things grow / Another world outside my door / Here I stand I’m all alone / Drive me down the pitch black road

You’re a bedtime story / The one that keeps the curtains closed / And I hope you’re waiting for me / ‘Cause I can’t make it on my own

I can’t make it on my own.

Morphine, ‘The Night’