20.Mar.2004
why yes, lounge lizzard man, i am, indeed, "down with the sickness".
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perpetual socialism all a'blunder
If, for no other reason, you shell out (or, in my case, others shell out for you) $7.50 to see the newest rendition of Dawn of the Dead simply for the acoustic piano cheesy-Vegas-lounge-jazzy-happy-magic version of Disturbed's "Down with the Sickness" during a character montage, then it was well fucking worth it.
Props for utilizing a Jim Carroll song during the credits.
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You may have noticed (have you?) a decline of morose literary endeavors here in my Diaryland-raped domain as of late. This is because somewhere between packing, jogging, logging and masturbating, I somehow awoke a social butterfly and I officially know forty-seven people in this Conservative US city. Lucky for all of you, this associating-myself-with-humans escapade has emptied all of my prosaic energy, and I've in fact invested stock in a few of these people.
By "few", I mean two.
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I leave in twelve days.
I've been experiencing that all-too-banal heat-wave of estrogenic fears and inhibitions as each minute ticks closer to "final boarding call". I have decided if something truly spanks my creative fancy, I am not coming back to the Southwest. If, however, something fails miserably, I'm still not fucking coming back to the Southwest.
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Attending Electro Lounge anniversary gala in seven 1/2 hours adorned in black silk and too-much-silver jewelry. I should say you should come out and lick my collar bone, but I think I want to play it solo tonight. I'm in the mood for strangers and new experiences. I'm in the mood to not return home tomorrow morning.
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And it's funny, sitting in the apartment of a crony of mine here amidst quasi-strangers rehashing inebriated and emotional events of years previous, well on my way to burst through the cellophane of my early twenties, it still feels like high school, and I'm still writing Leonard Cohen lyrics up my left forearm during Geometry class.
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Check, please.
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time & machine