somuchrain

well while my account has yet to expire, i may as well update.

i'm making a 'sad mix' for ilana because we are trading them; it's making me sad.
i'm drinking whiskey and listening to oliver and ilana watch game shows in the next room.
this is her computer, as has any computer been, since i moved to jersey.
i smell pot and it makes me want a real drug.
there's an autonomedia meeting tomorrow in the city i've got to go to, and want to go to, except that really i don't.
i bought a 'sports coat' today and think i look rather spiffy while wearing it, except that my hips and shoulders are still rather too big, and my spelling is too bad.
i'm re-reading hanif kureishi's collection, 'midnight all day' and it's so amazingly beautiful, if terribly arraigned. there are some absurdly wonderful lines about desire and ashes and dust. god ... it makes things seem meaningful.
oh lord, this cd needs some gang of four.
anyway, i am reading and drinking and writing, normally in that order, and nothing worthwhile comes out of it.

i woke up the other morning in my kitchen with one of those things you find on boxes, where you push to open them, super glued onto my shirt over my heart.

it read "push here and tear".