Learning To Crawl

And the pictures from yesterday’s Subway Pub Crawl are now up.

This was my third one of these, and I begin to understand Danny Glover in the Lethal Weapon films when he says, “I’m too old for this sh!t”. I did manage to imbibe at 9 of the 12 stations, way more than I’ve done in the past. There might well be a correlation between having an income and my willingness to blow large portions of it on alchohol.

You’ll not that there’s a lack of photographic evidence for King, Queen and College stations. If you’re guessing those shots have been confiscated by the local constabulary as evidence, well… The hijinks from last year were downgraded to mere shenanigans, but I think we still left an impression on the management of certain establishments that will remain unnamed.

I got home at a reasonable hour (1:30-ish) but was feeling the net effects of the day this morning. Nothing that a good greasy breakfast couldn’t take care of. Picked up a copy of Paul Auster’s ‘The New York Trilogy’. Buying books the morning after an all-day pissfest just seems like the appropriate thing to do.

np – Galaxie 500 / The Portable Galaxie 500

Letter Never Sent

Someone has used my email address as a sender for a ‘Buy Viagra in Bulk’ spam mailing, as I’m getting scads of ‘returned mail recipient not found’ notices in my inbox. I know that this isn’t me because their Viagra rates are much higher than what I sell for. No idea how these scam artists hope to make a buck when they can’t even undercut an honest man’s prices.

np – Beachwood Sparks / Make The Cowboy Robots Cry

The Long Dark Tea-Time Of The Soul

I was correct, yesterday was a farce, but overall not that bad. Full post-mortem later. Breakfast first.

Had the strangest dream in my alcohol-addled, dehydrated sleep last night. We were playing a show and were woefully unprepared, even moreso than usual. No one knew if Craig or any other drummer was showing up. We had no setlist. My cables were suddenly far too short and I could only set up such that I faced the back of the stage. I had no slide and was trying to use a plastic medicine bottle (it doesn’t work). And of course it was a packed house. That’s how I knew it was a dream…

Point? There is no point. There is never a point. Even when there seems to be a point, there isn’t really. Except when there is. Which is rarely, almost never, but still sometimes.

And let this be submitted into evidence as proof that I am still brain-addled.

Prove My Hypotheses

Martinis, pad thai, Soundscapes, a very fat cat. A nice evening. And now I am ready to sleep.

Tomorrow is going to be a farce, I can feel it in my bones.

np – Death Cab For Cutie / You Can Play These Songs With Chords

Spank the monkey

np – The House Of Love / The House Of Love (Fontana)