Dag, yo. I comment in Girl's journals and they actually come to mine. It's some kinda awesome. I don't know if it's because I try and avoid obvious comments like "y'all got killer boobies" and "tell me about your killer boobies", but either way I feel like I should make my journal a little more interesting since they would bother, and save my dead-end navel-gazing for my art. Heehee. 
Ted Leo will be in town soon, and I hope I can go. I haven't been to a punk show that required tickets since an MTX/Queers show in 1999. I know, pathetic. If you're not in a band or watching a band you're not a punk, right? We should fight so you can punk up my face with some working class welts, eh son? Whatevs dude, I ain't a hostile punk. I got my death-threats at clubs when I was 15 and I'm done with all of that. Life is too short for me to justify myself to people who won't like me anyways, but I assure you this is my kind of music and even though I run an actual treadmil for excercise (rat race, har har)l and own an MP3 player like a yuppie I earned the dough for them with my own two hands, and when I'm at home I still listen to my Boris the Sprinkler picture LP on the record player and write addresses and phone numbers on my hands. Yahoo, mothafucka, I may not have enough free humility to spare to keep sitting on the sidewalk in front of Dunkin Donuts all afternoon just to clutter the landscape, but I've done it and it wasn't terrible and I'm not ashamed and you can have my share thanks.
Tomorrow three of my friends have their court date for being arrested during March anti-war protests. They're cool people and pacifists, so I hope they get to not-suck outside of prison and without fines they can't afford. I'm not cool enough to get arrested. You guessed it: I had a riot shield pressed into my back for half an hour as we were corraled up and when I told the cop I was having a semi-annual panic attack and was about to pass out, he let me go.
It was true. I'm the sucker, not the cop.
Ted Leo will be in town soon, and I hope I can go. I haven't been to a punk show that required tickets since an MTX/Queers show in 1999. I know, pathetic. If you're not in a band or watching a band you're not a punk, right? We should fight so you can punk up my face with some working class welts, eh son? Whatevs dude, I ain't a hostile punk. I got my death-threats at clubs when I was 15 and I'm done with all of that. Life is too short for me to justify myself to people who won't like me anyways, but I assure you this is my kind of music and even though I run an actual treadmil for excercise (rat race, har har)l and own an MP3 player like a yuppie I earned the dough for them with my own two hands, and when I'm at home I still listen to my Boris the Sprinkler picture LP on the record player and write addresses and phone numbers on my hands. Yahoo, mothafucka, I may not have enough free humility to spare to keep sitting on the sidewalk in front of Dunkin Donuts all afternoon just to clutter the landscape, but I've done it and it wasn't terrible and I'm not ashamed and you can have my share thanks.
Tomorrow three of my friends have their court date for being arrested during March anti-war protests. They're cool people and pacifists, so I hope they get to not-suck outside of prison and without fines they can't afford. I'm not cool enough to get arrested. You guessed it: I had a riot shield pressed into my back for half an hour as we were corraled up and when I told the cop I was having a semi-annual panic attack and was about to pass out, he let me go.
It was true. I'm the sucker, not the cop.
lurrrrrve to you too, doll.