johnotronic

To whomever packed my mailbag at Suicide Girls HQ:

Thank you for putting over twenty stickers in the bag when I only ordered ten. Also, thank you for the Dandy Warhol stickers. And for the condom, though it's value is merely aesthetic at this point, what with the flame wrapper and the name Hot Rod.

So if you happen upon this, thank you muchly. I...
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Wesley Willis died on Thursday.

How am I just hearing this now?

Rest in peace, old buddy. You truly whupped a dead camel's ass.

Rock over London. Rock on Chicago. Wheates, breakfast of champions.

Leslie called with a flimsily-masked invitation to join her at some party tonight. I probably should go. Give in to this would-be fling. Try to remember what it's like to make out with a girl. But I pretended not to pick up the hint. So like me. Instead, I'll go see the new Audrey Tatou movie, Dirty Pretty Things. Alone.

Watching The Sterile Cuckoo on...
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Listening to Abbey Road last night on the way to the drinking. Seriously, I don't know why they even bothered making music after that band broke up.

In a semi-related note, I don't think I can drink Budweiser/Bud Light anymore. I don't care what the specials are, man, that shit's just bunk.

Good goddamn, Erin has a new set up.

This obsession cannot be healthy. I suppose it's a very good thing I don't live in California. She can remain nothing more than a dream to me. Nonexesitant . A figment of my over-imaginative brain.

'Cause, really, a girl like that can't be for real, can she?

Christ, look at those eyes. How does she fucking do...
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Okay, so I'm in love with Snow. For two reasons. 1) her yes, and 2) I dig star tattoos on chicks.

And the whole world replies, "Duh."

If you notice, all three of the girls I put as my favorite - Monica, Erin, and Snow - as well as the one I just removed - Nic - have short dark hair. And I tell people...
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Just posted some Charm and Capital Cities shows on the SG calendar. Figured there was enough West Coast shit in there, so I'll take on the responsibility of posting the DC and Baltimore shows.

By the by, if I post it, I'll be there. Probably. If I'm alone - I go to a lot of shows alone - come and say hullo. I'll buy you...
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Back from Houston, by way of Nashville to catch the New Amsterdams at Exit/In. Kind of disappointing.

Almost as disappointing as having to spend the week staring at the conjoined heads of some chick and your best friend whom you drove across seven states for twenty four straight hours to see.

Everything's changed, yet I feel frustratingly the same. Except financially. That's actually worse. So,...
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I didn't pay for an SG membership for the journal. Nor did I sign up to join a discussion group. I signed up for the naked chicks. Didn't realize the community associated with this place, man. Thousands of people talking about everything from local shows to Harry Potter, all joined by one common interest: seeing hot scenester chicks get naked.

And here I am, writing...
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What I do, see, when I see a particularly attractive or even interesting girl, instead of going to meet her and figure out what she's all about, I create an entire persona for her. Right there from where I stand (or sit), from my own personal island. Likes, dislikes, her favorite band, pet peeves, even problems, though they're always cute and manageable ones. All carry-on...
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The Rolling Rock Town fair was the biggest waste of time, money, and my attention, ever.

Why I ever bother to leave my apartment is beyond me.

First day out of the military.

High Life, an ER repeat, Refused, and The Fabulist by Stephen Glass.

Some fucking day.