Wednesday, August 6, 2008

august 6 2008

the man who helped the woman who wanted my mattress sounded like he was having a heart attack while we carried the mattress downstairs. he kept saying things i couldn't hear and laughing really loud. he had a kickass old astrovan.

august 5 2008

ever ting ess boxt

Monday, August 4, 2008

august 4 2008

i walked past some fresh cement today. some hooligan had scrawled FUCK into it. at this point in my life, i probably shouldn't be giggling.

august 3 2008

show at the evelands' tonight. definitely reached fever pitch. i got to lie on the ground and roll around with the microphone and be hoisted above the crowd, during one song. i'm pretty sure that's when you know it's working.

all the other bands were really good. i wish i'd seen/met the duders in cloudmouth way earlier. actually, i wish i could just re-do the first six months or so in chicago.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

august 2 2008

dance partaaaaaay

holy shit, climbing rules

so sore today

couldn't even open the refrigerator

had to put both hands on it and then use my weight to pull it open

Friday, August 1, 2008

august 1 2008

thomas (not tom) wolfe sure was a racist

july 31 2008

talked to bob about the apartment. feel better about it now... he's under a bunch of stress, i'm under a bunch of stress, it's a big stress parade.

a couple of months before i left in phoenix, a man named rocky came up to me and told me how much he loved my songs... it took me a couple seconds, but i realized i'd actually met him before, about two years ago, after a mono show at modified. he told me he wanted to give me a tape of his band's music. i told him i would be flattered, but i didn't have a tape player. a couple weeks later, at the modified, rocky rode up on his bike and handed me a walkman.

"our tape is in there," he said.

that skinwalkers tape ruled pretty hard. i got to use that walkman this morning to listen to the split fran did with whitman. her side of it is really, really, really beautiful... she turned 4 of her favorite poems into songs, and they sound like they were always meant to be sung. whitman's half is perty good, too, but his vocals are way too low in the mix - or maybe my walkman is dying.