This will never work:

A majority of last weekend was spent thinking about my somewhat dire need to salvage the remainder of the weekend.

Fuck, I just realized that this weekend sticks around til monday, today. I wonder what I mean by "salvage"?

The sculpture of Zakk, displayed with his signature black and white Bullseye Gibson Les Paul, is scheduled for release in Summer 2005, with pre-ordering available
now. All figures in the Guitar Hero series are limited editions and the Zakk Wylde figure will be very exclusive with only 3000 pieces slated for production. This is an officially licensed product from Zakk Wylde and Gibson Guitars.

The Zakk Wylde sculpture is created using a team of highly skilled artists to sculpt a
remarkable likeness of the guitarist. The limited edition figure will be cast in a poly-resin and hand-paint in fine detail. Each sculpture in the Guitar Hero series is hand-numbered and displayed on an attractive wooden base.

Here is a link enabling you the viewer to see more angles of the "actual finished sculpture prototype".

Hey, so you honestly believe those political half-truths and semi-radical-buzzword-filled reform theories not only make you look well-informed, but are actually somewhat interesting? And that these words coming out of your mouth make you an interesting person? You don't think maybe this is all due to the fact that you only recently discovered cocaine? Not even just a little?


(welcome to lovely hour two of delving into a pile of minutiae located somewhere left of the bigger picture.)

I am totally about to update about that I now have this jacket once stolen from Michael Stipe's porch so it must have been his and also it has not been washed in ten years it smells like ten years later I bet.
Keep in mind that I have very little going on right now so I am going to choose to believe in this jacket. (Jill and the Amazing Unwashed Sportcoat.)

So I just updated about that and that is all for now goodnight.

I am going to drive to Dairy Queen, I think.

Hey when are things happening? Wait, I mean- when are things happening- the things I mean that crawl out of grey matter and line themselves into lovely narrative spelled out backwards on my retina?
Seven minutes ago? A few hours before last Sunday? It's whenever I am nowhere near a keyboard that's when! But oh man did I want to expound on my flat tire/lack of cigarettes/dry eyes/weekend two day groundhog day with your family/eight glasses of white zinfandel later/etc.
Instead I will leave it at driving next to lost around stone mountain, a truck hit a sign or maybe a stop sign and then there was a spring-loaded half-flamingo on the ground, earlier (friday) my father wore searsucker and looked like colonel sanders on easter morning and later (sunday) I found what appeared to be melanie griffith's mood ring on a bedside table, stuck on color decidedly vacant. I didn't keep it but I did consider the bedside table, reconaissance anyone? Hows about some ice cream instead?

when white wine goes pink:


afterhours schoolyard flamingo pieces:


dad's ridiculously white shoez:


actual ceremony-related picture, that is my stepsister in the dress:


I am still thinking about some ice cream.

This afternoon, exactly mid-afternoon which is 3pm, I decided to acknowledge the knocking sound coming from the general direction of my door as someone at my door and not just the usual construction shennanigans. Several seconds after said acknowledgement I found myself standing face to face with Jamal, Jamal and his supersoaker, his brand-new supersoaker which included an extra tank of water cleverly disguised as a backpack. The reason I knew it was brand-new, and well here I suppose is the meat and potatoes of any remaining antecdote exposition, was because not twenty four hours prior I not-so-cleverly cleared his house of all previous supersoakers after having been cornered and drenched and then forced to remain damp for approximately 700 rounds of spades. (Most of which team mine won, I kick ass at old people games.)
And so at 3pm, I was once again supersoaked. Through my less than protective screen door. Into my kitchen, all over the fridge. At which point Jamal declares I AM THE KING OF SUMMER before continuing to an unspecified destination, though one would suppose it was in the direction of the actual location of his missing arsenal (which I instructed were "in the north highland area" oh yeah the funny part was that I didn't even have his original damn supersoakers, what would I want with some waterguns do I look like the king of summer or something).

here is a visual aid:

this is all I know about this.

bonus disc geek set




wolodarsky!

kitten! more!







and that has been your weekly kitten for the week.

Strange things are afoot at the circle k....more exploring spaces between lines than magic phonebooths I'm afraid, fraying weather patterns and the like. On Sunday morning I pointed towards one apartment wall meaning call it north then said out loud "Do you remember the weather- the cloud we were driving towards, I would call it apocalyptic. I would say it's the kind of cloud with the ability to open a few seals." Let's light cigarettes and appear slightly unhealthy to the midday, to all of them, wait no not that-
um-
Then more back and forth and then I start clocking pauses the way they figure into longer silences, documenting bedside manner in hours and hours of not moving and in other stretches of normality hell even courtesy and hell even what- and then the weather starts up again.
Later I would name names, call it downright odd and think about how 40 flies can circle each other for hours without even one recorded collision. We all have such dumb luck.

This week in visual aids:






I am taking all my pictures through the viewmaster ringer.








this is when you can't decide between a shower or a moon landing.

right then. so 26.

I just had one of those tangental-to-reality dreams where everyone was someone else, like falling asleep with the television on and subsequently dreaming that you are watching a different show. I have no real sleeping patterns anymore, every morning the power goes out and my clock resets itself without asking my permission and I end up in a completely different time zone until I turn on the television and wonder why they're airing Seinfeld at 3pm. This computer has been playing b-flat for an hour, it's Friday night again and again I am wondering why I still flinch when the knife falls on hundreds of phantom limbs I lost over the year(s). All my organs stay intact but every once in awhile oops there goes another arm, an arm I never really had to begin with but I still wander in circles for months hoping for something better than what they call prosthetics.
Speaking of misguided metaphors, yesterday (quite without context) I found one of those remarkable testaments to teenage angst- a high school literary magazine.

kids are so delightful aren't they? also computers are delightful, and infinitely less annoying.













Thanks, history!

I met Ted Leo the other night here is how our conversation went (sans context):

Me: Yeah, that'll totally work.
Ted: Hey it could work, have a little faith...
Me: I just worry about the lines of communication between drunk people is all.


OH MY GOD HOW COOL IS THAT i only like one ted leo song but i did not mention that to him.

Were you guys aware that Mamie Van Doren invented rock and roll? No shit you guys this is the most shocking news I have learned since I learned that Al Gore invented the internet!

yeah, i dunno...

big fun monday nite...nothing...ever...happens...today, today...




(I don't know anything about this girl except that it was her birthday.)




Oh and we celebrated the release of Oasis's new album in normal fashion:

Here's the "Fuck you for taking my picture" portion of today's post: