longblackbangs

So I was sitting out on the back patio under the very early morning light having my ritual coffee and smoke before preparing to drag my corpse through an action packed day of work and school when a strange thought popped into my brain. That thought was this...how does my brain do such a superb job of filing away all these random Simpson quotes and the endless lines of music lyrics, and where in my brain are they actually stored in. I mean, this one came to me when I was looking down at my sweatpants and wishing it was socially acceptable to wear them 24/7.

(talking about Homer)
McAllister: I'm surprised he doesn't just give it up and go for sweatpants.
Akira: He says the crotch wears out too fast.
McAllister: Yar! That's going to replace the whale in my nightmares

So I laughed and my mind started to wander and before my coffee was gone I had silently recited Inmates by The Good Life.

Did you act out as a child? Were you always crying, 'Wolf?' Attention star, you try too hard just to get someone to look. Now you're a wolf in second-hand clothing. I'm a sheep in a pleated skirt. It's an awkward form of payback but if it works for you it works.

Where the hell is this stuff coming from. I mean I know the answer. I've probably clocked more hours watching reruns of the Simpsons than most people do sleeping and anyone who sees me in public but doesn't know me otherwise would problably think I had headphones surgically attached to my head. But still...if I could direct this energy to something more academic I could be reciting War and Peace from off the top of my head.

Anyway...there was no real point in that story.

The weekend is here and I couldn't be more ready. If all goes well mine will get off on the right foot with a midnight showing of the revamped Donnie Darko...but keeping my friends motivated from the time they get here until midnight is no easy endeavor.

I'm still not over the Ian Curtis photo so it gets another run in the ol' billyboy journal...your welcome.