03.Apr.2003

wish what i'm feeling could go on like this forever

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cracks in strange places

Cracks in strange places, not dubiously and oddly-placed orifii, and no, you can't touch them.

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The Beast called me from the Sigur Ros concert last night while I was in the midst of a valiant journey to 7-11 to procure booze. In honor of him, I purchased three 40-ounce malt liquor beverages and consumed them atop Dee's balcony, stretched and musically adored beneath the tranquilizing visage of stars. His cell-phone version of me sat on the stage, directly in front of instruments that forced my ears to shimmer.

It is things like this which cause me to realize exactly the reason and its magnitude why I love and defend our (sometimes) portentously-fucked camaraderie.

Inebriation proliferated during the final song of the show, which was 8 from their () album, and I decided, despite everything that chafes me in my existential universe, despite every flogged core of every odious situation I find myself engulfed in on an hourly basis, despite my perpetual, personal bullshit and the ex I endeavor passionately to forget (who has been handed a mission from Zeus to make sure I do not, in fact, ever forget him), that god fucking damn it, my life is beautiful.

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I called Dustin right as he was experiencing familial discontent and pacified him for twenty minutes; he continually reiterated, "Be ready by 9:30 tomorrow night. I'm swinging by your place as soon as I get off work."

We momentarily debated WinMX versus KaZaa and the 'Some Bizarre' remix of Depeche Mode's "Photographic". He is looking forward to 9:30; to an extent, it briefly concerns me.

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I fell asleep at 3:30 in the morning and awoke dauntingly at 9; I have a fetish for waking up in different rooms, as I do for egg sandwiches and chicken-with-rice soup, and I suppose you simply had to know.

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time & machine