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Sunday, December 31
ok i know this is immature but i cant help myself! happy new year.
Friday, December 29
the world is fucking stupid.
why do we hurt our bodies? there is too much green tea in my stomache. why do we do it? i am so high, i just drank three cups, and i put too much in the tea pot i think - i went and cleaned the whole kitchen, and i've researched the best ways to get rid of cockroaches, i am so in a tweaker mindset right now - what if in a parallel universe the tweaker girls in high school were japanese green tea drinkers? they would get almost the same feeling, but they wouldn't get addicted, and we'd probably see them at lunch meditating on nothingness on the football field. there would be different meaning in that all too familiar teenage attitude of "doing nothing." i'm doing nothing.
i wonder what it would feel like to have a rope tied around my neck and to have people looking at me with cameras - or i wonder what people would think when they look at me on the front pages of newspapers or web-pages. i guess i wouldn't care about any of that because if i could have anything in the whole world i would just want air.
did i ever show you this book? you should read it:
brian eno vs harold budd (FUCK IT!!! FUCK IT!!!)
last night i dreamt ches was playing with sonic youth. ches, will you write a song called, "the scientologist and the linguist"??? - or, call it "Beck and Chomsky" - or how about: "beck vs heidegger" or: "FUCK IT!!! FUCK IT!!!"
two nights ago i texted jamie, "holy fuck i'll be in heaven i found the explorer series vol 2 gamelan from central java on itunes and i have an itunes certificate that i got for christmas." today i accidentalalaly bought the CD on itunes using my own money and not the gift certificate. they fucking tricked me. FUCK IT! FUCK IT!
today i visited a printer to get an exact quote on a publication i want to print (the catalog for an art show i'm curating in los angeles in late feb.). i need fucking six grand in US dollars to print it how i want to print it. FUCK IT! if I lived in canada i would tell my government to pay for it. FUCK IT!!! FUCK IT!!! how do i raise six grand? okay, this is serious, to all you xiu xiu fans out there, convince your boss at work to sponsor an art show! they'll get credit and thanks on the publication which will be given away for free! in the show: xiu xiu is making a sound sculpture in it. krysten has drawings that fill the void of the world. uta has pictures of stillness and staring. lindsay will have film-stills of barthes' bliss and pleasure. brendan fowler (barr) will talk about absense and art. and more! but seriously, if your business or organization (or you?) wants to sponsor it, email me: hikarusaru (at) hotmail (dot) com. FUCK IT!!!
if michel foucault was alive he'd probably let marines fuck him in the ass to give them HIV. FUCK IT!!! FUCK IT!!!
oh and also, party at my house tomorrow night!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
what the fuck--LA rock?
LA rock? what the fuck? covering WHAT with your keyboards?
I am moving to Fresno?
Thursday, December 28
in the book it says that marines like to get fucked in the ass by navy guys because
a) they have to be so tough all the time it gives them a chance to let go
b) it shows how tough they are that they can get pounded in the ass
c) they hate the navy and try to get shit on them
that is all i remember from that book
love and peace in the new year and hot tam tam
yes it is i
mie the finger!!!!!!!!!!!!! fist fuck!!!!!!!
Wednesday, December 27
taking the righteous path to success.
i learned how to spell "success" from full house. danny tanner was explaining to stephanie, before she won the school spelling bee that when you double the c and double the s, you end up with success.
i learned how to spell breakfast from my older sister. it was the usual "break" and then "fast" thing. i remember being real young and memorizing the words to "more human than human" by the almighty white zombie and bringing those lyrics to school. i even wore a white zombie t-shirt in the first grade, when a french/christian children's singer put on a show for us in the old beat down gym. the principal made me go home and change because the shirt had satanic symbols on it and i kept yelling out "do you know any rolling stones songs?!" his name was greg le rock, i think. i fucking hate the french.
right now i'm drinking a glass with coke and ice in it. and by coke and ice, i mean coca cola and ice cubes. 'cause i'm sure mixing coke and ice would be insanely ridiculous and you'd end up either taking apart a motorcycle and putting it back together again or just having a heart atttack.
tomorrow i start my ten day detox. camh. one of the top ten centers in all of north america. five month waiting list. they just called today and told me to come in tomorrow at eight o'clock in the morning which means i have to get up at four thirty in the morning which means not only will i be sick, but i'll be even more grumpy than i had first imagined. i even have to buy ten packs of cigarettes, 'cause i'm not allowed visitors.
but what especially sucks about starting this tomorrow, is that one of my best friend's funeral is friday, and the viewing is tomorrow. i was almost ready to say "fuck it" to the whole recovery thing just to make the funeral, but my mother said she'd go to the funeral and abuse her body and other's on my behalf. that was sweet of her. especially since her left boob is in more pain than i could imagine. she has a big patch over it. but it's not covering her nipple. so she showed me. and she flashed me and said "LOOK MIRANDA, THEY STUCK A NEEDLE IN THERE!"
she used to get naked in front of me as a kid just to get me to stop bugging her for money.
i don't really have time or energy to send out individual emails. so if anyone reading this knows me personally, you know what's up, and i'll be gone for a little over a week. wish me luck. i'm not even going to be able to party on new year's. so have a drink, fuck a hooker, and shoot yourself silly for me.
the very first xiu xiu show i went to, was the first time they came to toronto. my friend alysha and i went. we came early. i had my nacho cheese gear ready, and we noticed this black woman on queen street. i was outside having a cigarette and alysha quickly followed. this black woman was clearly on crack, and most likely homeless. she had two plastic grocery bags with her filled with different shoes and not one of them matched. so single shoes. heels, sneakers, loafers, slippers... everything. the gladstone was under construction at the time and there was this big metal thing covering the front of it. she started climbing it like godzilla, while carefully handling her two bags of shoes. she yelled like a soul sister, and put her hands on her hips mick jagger style. after she came down, she started to throw the shoes at passing cars. and then in the windows of cars that were stopped at the red light. and then she placed a high heel on the streetcar tracks. the streetcar stopped for at least twenty minutes until the cops finally came. right before she left, she was walking more like a chicken than mick... but who can tell. i remember after she left, and there was no more fun to be had... owen from final fantasy asked me for a cigarette and we started talking about canadian idol. both of our moms wanted to try out for canadian idol. and i vaguely remember a talk about coldplay.
blackzilla will always remain in my heart, and i hope to god i have a story like that when i come back from detox.
i will have email access, but i'm not sure about full internet access. y' know... like surfin' the web, or posting anywhere, or talking on msn (even though i rarely do that anymore.)
so email me. but if i'm a bitch during or after this ten days, don't blame me. it's sobriety and it's not your friend.
ps: if you know a hot contract killer or a mafia badass... tell me or give him my number. as long as he has a slightly receding hairline and a moustache or sideburns.
here's to dying at 27!
fuck you, stillepost. you're boring.
Tuesday, December 26
sometimes i read craigslist because i'm bored, look what i found:
Marine seeks LAPD or Deputy for possible LTR - m4m
Reply to: email@example.com
Date: 2006-12-26, 10:16PM PST
just returned staeside... stationed at Camp Pendleton
lving in L.A. on the weekends
seeking something with an LAPD Officer or Deputy Sheriff ONLY
prefer under 35 but the younger you are the better
i have a DISCREET photo however send what you want as long as it shows face
this is to remain CLASSIFIED but I am open to going out on dates, etc...
JAMIE KNOWS ABOUT THIS KIND OF STUFF, HE'S READ A BOOK! JAMIE, WHAT DO YOU KNOW?
haikus of the DAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
by jamie the virtue poseur 2006
first one for larsen
the ox the camel
the penciled museum note
to build a new church
age 30 plus 12
a beast is not soft enough
time causes all wounds
for whomever did this piece and for HH for the translation
your short hair remakes
"crying contest" opens me
to see confidence
never having known
the queens house reveals to you
the blood of the lamb
ok it has been along time since i thought about punching myself in the face as hard as i can. today it is all i can think about. this is so fucking DUMB + DUMB!!!!!!!!
is it more dumb to say it outloud?
a good friend of mine told me that at a certain age it is at the very least unbecoming to make public ones uncertainies, self pity, self hate and unhappiness. he then told me that i was nearing if not at that age. i know he is just saying this to make sure that i do not look like a pathetic, sagging drag queen but FUCK what do you do when it wont lay off, wear a fucking beret?
my sister is taking iron instead of prozac.
charlie brown christmas!!!!
A driver is stuck in a traffic jam on the highway. Suddenly a man knocks on his window. The driver rolls down his window and asks, "What's going on?"
"Terrorists down the road have kidnapped George W. Bush and Dick Cheney," the man says, "They're asking $100 million ransom. Otherwise they're going to douse them with gasoline and set them on fire. We're going from car to car taking up a collection."
The driver asks, "How much is everyone giving on average?"
The man responds: "Most people are giving about a gallon."
By Terry J. Allen / In These Times / Feb. 2007
Zainab may be one of the 655,000 Iraqis who would be alive today if the Bush administration hadn't launched its criminally conceived and executed war. Violence caused most of the excess deaths. But 54,000 people died from non-violent causes, such as heart disease, cancer and chronic illness. They were victims of a health care system eviscerated by mismanagement, ill-placed priorities, corruption and civil war.
The body count comes, not from the U.S. government--which either does not bother to track, or won't release, the Iraqi death toll--but from a survey by the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and Baghdad's Al Mustansiriya University, published in The Lancet.
Almost four years ago, just before the invasion, Zainab, age 10, sat small and dignified on a hard plastic chair in a featureless room in a Baghdad hospital. An IV dripped poison into her outstretched arm. Her leukemia was going into remission and she was pink-cheeked and doing well. Despite the shortage of medicine and care created by combined efforts of Saddam and U.S. sanctions, the medical system still functioned.
Pre-Gulf War Iraq was "believed to have the best health care system in the Mideast, so it had enough altitude that it could fall some and still survive," says Gilbert Burnham, principal author of the Johns Hopkins survey.
Today, the country's healthcare is in free fall. Most of the $1 billion that Washington transfused into the medical system has bled out through the open wounds of wars. Of the 34,000 doctors in Iraq at time of the invasion, more than half are gone: Most fled the country; 2,000 were murdered.
"Senior doctors, especially surgeons, have left, and patients are seen by inexperienced physicians," Dr. A., who requested anonymity, told In These Times. He left a Baghdad hospital in July to study in the United States.
Zainab may have finished treatment before the system collapsed around her and joined the 85 percent of childhood leukemia patients who survive. But this was March 2003, and, as you know, things would not be going well.
Today, patients like Zainab die daily from treatable illnesses and injuries. "That translates to more than 1,800 preventable deaths a year at [one Baghdad] hospital alone," according to the Los Angeles Times, which quoted Iraqi physician Husam Abud: "[I]f we get cases of cancer, we can't treat them. They'll probably end their days here."
Making things worse, the Ministry of Health is controlled by Shia cleric Muqtada al-Sadr's movement, "ignorant people who know nothing about medical science," a doctor told InterPress Service (IPS) reporters Dahr Jamail and Ali Al-Fadhily. More than ignorant, the clerics charged with protecting Iraqis' health are part of sectarian militias with military, political and religious agendas. The "guards" they place in hospitals are an ominous presence. "They are wearing Ministry of Health uniforms," says Dr. A., "but everyone knows they are part of Sadr's militia. Of course, they are armed with machine guns."
Everyone suffers, but Sunnis disproportionately. "We have no medications or blood serum supplies," Tariq Hiali, a health official in mainly Sunni Baqubah told the Los Angeles Times.
"The Ministry of Health is not providing us with medications and medical equipment; they consider [us] terrorists." Which means fair game in the escalating civil war. One doctor told IPS that ministry-controlled militiamen have "divert[ed] the ministry into a death squad headquarters."
"Sunni patients are being murdered; some are dragged from their beds," CBS News reported. "A man was bringing his murdered brother to the [hospital] morgue. They asked him if he knew who the killers were and he said yes.' They shot him right there," said a medical worker.
Little wonder that physicians like Dr. A have joined Iraq's nearly 2 million post-invasion refugees.
Medical personnel remaining in Iraq have shown dedication and courage. They face shortages, death threats and kidnapping, as well as inadequate supplies that increase mortality, patient suffering and nosocomial infections.
And when militias dispense "security," simply providing care is dangerous. "A doctor was attacked by [Ministry of Health] guards in Al Yarmook Hospital because he was preventing the guards from interfering in the medical care," says Dr. A. "The doctors complained to the ministry that they cannot work in such an environment, and they held a one-day strike."
Increasingly, the whole country is a fatally hostile environment, where people like Zainab die routinely from bad health care and worse policies. If she did not survive Iraq's medical free fall, she was a casualty of war, as surely as the 600,000 felled by bullets and bombs.
Monday, December 25
also, yesterday, on xmas eve, there was a guy at the freeway exit holding a sign that read, "Just Hungry." It was kind of sad. Then some afluently dressed man approached him very aggressively, and started to yell at him. Maybe because hew as obstructing traffic or something. I thought, "jesus, this rich dude is yelling at this homeless dude because he was standing on the side of the road. i wonder if this fuck knows what it feels like to be hungry or to have to live on the streets. i don't know what it feels like but i could imagine that if i was the homeless guy i would have stolen that guys car when he got out of the car and then run him over ruining his nice clothes."
merry christmas. i hope that everybody is safe and warm and happy today. tell mom i said hi.
Sunday, December 24
this post is large in a ridiculous way, but keep readin'. sinister types for readers.
my nervousness when things bump or fall is my fault. sorry.
i was at a dinner table with my croatian grandmother, my 26 year old ex white zombie ex the cure present new hip hop music. but not the good stuff like nas. i'm talkin' the r&b sorta hip hop stuff like pas. pas was supposed to be piss but i left it. anyway. courtney is the sister's name. derek's her husband who's the most laid back guy in the world. he WISHES he had his nerves shot all the time like me. and their kids. cali and kaeden. i was in my grandmother's driving way. where i saw her car in front. me and my dad in the car only.
miranda fantastic - what the hell is that in front of us!
rolling pops - that's your sister's car. there's nothing to be ashamed of. just go.
i sat in the car. hands were shaking like a leaf. trying to get that belmont mild in my mouth was a trick like i've never seen before. i smoked. i smoked. i smoked. three cigarettes. listening to "long long, while" by the stones as always in the valentic family you like the stones or you die. my dad takes that one a bit seriously. listening to "long long, while" made me think of the scene in casino where deniro and peci beat the life out of someone. and how my aforementioned pilot would be doing the same to someone who deserved it, only to that song, though. the last half of the song. those two notes of music make the song what it is.
i was nervous. i hadn't talked to derek or courtney since i made out with jesse from eagles of death metal. funny story, really. you'd never believe what lead up to that...
brain fridge. brain fuzz. next time. just remind me and i'll finish the one of many great stories.
now let me take a drill to my head and get back to the dinner table. while i did that, i had my right thumb resting against the space between your cheek and chin, and my index on the right side of my face near where the ear is. you can you do it, to. just try it. it's easy. "anything's easy if you put your mind to it"
not the fucking dinner table. i stared blankly. radiohead bootlegs were distracting me, though. motion picture soundtrack.
dinner table scene: i hadn't talked to courtney in a LONG time. she was really worried about me and then became upset but i walked up those stairs so nervously like i aways walk up steps. i hate steps. THOSE make me nervous. for real. it's christmas time. and i've got some bad news, courtney. and derek. but it's christmas, and grandma shouldn't hear some of this, and the kids definitely shouldn't.
miranda - can we go downstairs so we can talk about this?
courtney - of course! are you okay?
miranda - court... i'm miranda. i'm always fine. fine fine fine fine fine fine fine.
courtney - get upstairs, me and aunti 'randa are trying to talk!
miranda - hah.
courtney - what's up?
miranda - everything. some good some bad some hilarious.
you know that $1000 i stole off of her for drugs?
courtney - yeah. do you regret it, or do you regret that they found you after that long trail to left behind them.
miranda- definitely getting caught. that sucked. but she's all "oh, i forgive you. nah!!! take some food with you. you so hungry. please. take food. i forgive you. here some money to take to rAhEb. "
courtney - yeah. that woman bends over backwards for you.
miranda - i know. i'd bend forwards, but my legs are hurting. i think i need just a few more of those pills. then i'll bend forwards.
the rest of this conversation unfortunately i can't post because my mary kay may come across this and there'll be more valentic drama. cops love us. mom's obsessively in love with jamie stewart and has always wanted to talk to him. i'm sure jamie will be reading this. let me set you up with my mom on a quick phone date.
i want to stick to what i came here to do. talk about that dinner table. but words keep comin' in my head and they're so good they're almost eargasmic lyrics and i want to type them and i'm fighting within myself right now.
this is definitely going to be a very long post, but i hope you'll keep reading.
back the dinner table. something slipt and fell behind me. the plastic butter knife. somebody else dropped it, but i went into a panic and couldn't stop saying sorry. it wasn't my fault. but.. i'm still sorry that it dropped. sometimes it's hard eating with friends or family being so neurotic, ridiculously apologetic for no apparent reason, and so forth. but anyhow. we ate swiss chalet and it was delicious, but i had to have at least 17 lorazepam granny pills to calm my nerves. back downstars with derek and courtney to talk about paul's death, rape, cancer, theft, rehab, drugs, etc. and then eventually we all went home.
miranda wundercroat came home and bought six *x** from her father. then she took a few canadian beers from the fridge and came here. to the computer. and started typing. but before i went to croat-grannys...
edit: i removed part of this conversation, and am contemplating removing most of the rest of it. since it's christmas eve, and i don't want to bring anybody down. it was purely meant to interest people, though. that was my first real conversation in months.
last night i had a dream, i woke up in a sweat, wrote something down, and went back to bed.
this is what i found next to me when i woke up at two pm this morning.
ok i'm back. some reason or another my thoughts are scattering. reading this in my mind. what i'm writing. right now. i just wrote right now. to prove to you. that i'm making a voice in my head read along with me. he sounds kind of like a mixture of danny devito and an old man goblin with long hair who's green and little and who only wears little white briefs. he has a tough wrasply voice but he's friendly.
re-reading what i wrote here last night... everything before the "edit" part. i must have been on something different. but i wasn't. sometimes maybe i should think before i write. maybe not. i don't know. but i spent a long time trying to write what i wrote only to find out it's hard to make sense of. you had to be there. half way through typing that conversation out, i puked. i puked up a lot of puke. i stress too much. and now i've got my blood, sweat, tears, and vomit into this blog so merry fucking christmas. i'll end with what my brother just said to me, and what i say to other people often. we have a lot in common.
Saturday, December 23
nevermind that previous post. i just had sex with joseph stalin. he sure knows how to purge the ass he's fucking.
why did i just write that? to be funny? to show that i payed attention in high school? because i'm bored? because i hate holidays?
blue yellow grean
all i want to do today is watch porn.
list of people i wish i could have fucked
the exploited singer
cindy sherman's untitled film still #85
joseph stalin again
shit, there was another one that just slipped my find. fuck, i am stupid, why did i forget, what's wrong with me. fuck fuck fuck ufckfu dkufd vkufkdvudkfuvkvkvkdudufkdkdkukfuvkdufkukukdvkukudkuvkukduvkuvkvkvvkvukufku
fuck, my brain is fucking stupid, fuck it fuck it fuck it, it's lost.
i wrote 5 haikus on the plane and 3 on a the train
this makes me feel less like a ranting crazy asshole
caralee's couch is in fact covered in stains
the stain of human uncertainty and genocide
jet lag makes SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
i am on drugs called the time space continum. i cannot sleep again!!!! i love being a zombie named the prince of i mutha fuckin hate you.
today i read an email from a person who told me his uncle twisted his leg for pulling a cats tail and now he cant feel part of it (the leg)
are amputee nuns and priests so hot that you too are already smoking a cigarette in bed looking at the ceiling
yesterday i got TERRRRRRRIBLE haircut and the woman next to me said
"i would wear a wig but damn one hot flash and that wig will fly across the restaurant."
my family thinks i am a bad cook so i get to make the salad.
the XXL record turned out good. thank you
my bag is lost by united
i bought really good shoes in italy
they are lost
my brothers and his girlfriends christmas present
all caralee's clothes all my clothes
the ugly jeans are on now and forever
miranda v. is the best part of the internet.
hyun hye is in the desert of morocco
she wrote the walla walla hey part
the new barr record is amazing
the new johann johanssen record is amazing
i forgot to put someone on the list of people i fucked and it is funny i forgot cuz this is the only person i fucked (initial C.) that was totally and only related to being in a band. i.e. full on errrrrr... "groupie" style shudder shudder sorry.
it notable for having thought that my dick was in his ass but it was tucked between his ass check and leg. (yeah condoms!!!!!!!!) i was fucking away, looking at a bored expression. and then realzied what was happening after like 5 minutes. i started to laugh at myself embarassedly , it is funny, but was met with the comment "i like food so much more that sex." AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
holy shit once also a dude i fucked who i met at the gym started eating pizza while i was fucking him. (intial A.)
holy shit i want to destroy all the food on earth. i am so jealous of you food.
Friday, December 22
welcome to my life.
attention jamie stewart fans
hi jamie doesnt run or check the messages on the official xiu xiu myspace page. if you write a message i will respond. if you dont want a response from me dont right a message to the myspace page. jamie has an email address. if you dont know it check our website. i know its upsetting. im really upset too. but life is hard.
Thursday, December 21
hi we just back from italy. all my clothes are somewhere in the chicago airport. im wearing all my boyfriends clothes which isnt so bad because we dress the same anyways. my apartment flooded while i was gone and now one of my hardwood floors looks like a floor in a dr suess house. my landlord came today and tried to nail it down and now i keep stubbing my toes on the nails. i also have a cold.
have you seen the pictures of britney spears vagina? you should really look at them. it will make you feel better about your vagina.
i have this really ugly cream colored couch that i hate in my living room. today i spilt coffee on it. i think i did it on purpose. maybe ill spill coffee all over it to make it brown.
jamie asked me if i wanted a beanie or a pedal for christmas. i told him that he had to decide but now i wish i told him that he had to somehow incorporate the two like a hat that looks like a pedal. or a pedal that sounds like a beanie.
okay im really bad a blogging but my new years resolution is to write more. even if its boring or i dont think its good. so you will be hearing from me more often and im sorry ahead of time.
ps. im going to be 23 in less than a week and im totally not into it
we should start a band where i play "smoke on the water" on guitar and you play a really basic 4/4 rock beat on the drums. i think you should come up with a name for the band that sounds like a free jazz name so you can book us to open some jazz gigs in nyc. also we would need to drink a lot. like redbull and vodka. no costumes though that would be stupid.
Tuesday, December 19
internet still down.
my internet is still down. i've been using the wirless at a coffee shop in echo park. in the two hours i've been here these people have walked in:
cindy sherman, singer from yeah yeah yeahs, vincent gallo, some kid who bought a shirt from me at the troubadour two tours ago, raymond pettibon, a girl in an american apparel ad, a guy wearing a diy made pitchfork shirt, steve jones from the sex pistols who has a radio show in LA, a girl from my highschool.
fucking echo park coffee shop!
Sunday, December 17
all of our lives should be dedicated to roseanne barr. think about it. her sister is gay. her husband is dead from a heart attack. and she'd rather her two daughters switch husbands. when did roseanne start being made up? most people say it was when they won the lottery. i've thought about this countless times, just before my eyes close for good. and i think it was when her whole family went bald and she blew up her house. her own house. wtf.
the "happy birthday" song (a classic) has already been changed to "happy fuck roseanne". it's fucking insane. but no television family will be as comical or classy as frasier crane's. i'm going to move to seattle and live in an apartment building just like his. i'm going to marry a scottish contract killer who just so happens to be an actor/comedian. and i will be beck. only beck doesn't exist, 'cause i've already written all of his songs. there is no beck. there is sinister funkhouse. and she released odelay in 2006 and not 1996. it's better off. the scottish fellow, named pilot... or winston. receding hair line, moustache, sideburns, woody allen glasses with a rubber band strap to keep his glasses from falling off of his beautiful face when he's either dancing or killing.
but how will i know when to stop dreaming and when to start living? tomorrow i have to get up at five o'clock in the morning and be in toronto at nine in the morning. hopefully starting tomorrow i'll be living there for 21 days in "north america's greatest treatment center".
and if this happens, i might stop fantasizing about a non existent detailed man, winning the lottery, raising healthy addictions and finally dying in a way that even YOU will remember for the rest of YOUR life. i might stop asking myself what the hell happened behind the scenes of roseanne, and how martin felt when eddie died a while back.
i'd post a story but my two month hermitron is nearly over and i've got a lot of nerve to work up to get out there in the cold canadian winter and face the real world. i hear denver's real world is insane. at least that's what eugene levy's son said.
i have shame, too. We should start a band where we make songs about this and we might release some of it.
or, maybe we'll just blow up a bunch of speaker cabinets and talk shit.
See you in your birdhouse mission in the new year.
Saturday, December 16
on a stage
I am sitting on a stage.
Why do you want to hear the bass drum?
You will hear it when we start.
Allright, enough poetry. If anyone has a house good for cows and mary halvorson/jessica pavone can play mid January between Portland, OR and SF, CA lemme know. Ches@chessmith.com
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