i'm about to taker a long hot shower. my sleepy face is puffy. i wish i could find some of my mix tapes i made when i was 18 to listen to, with lemonheads, beastie boys, liz phair, pop will eat itself, smashing pumpkins and such. if i could go back in time and retrieve something that would be it, no question. i think on one particular tape was that song, detachable penis.
anyway this weekend was pretty cool. the drop dead fest was kickass even tho i was burned out from work but i made a bunch of tips from it.
funeral crashers were awesome. also the brides were pretty cool.
this is awesome - wendy is coming up next month and i'll get to hang out with her. you are SO jealous. ahaha.
tonight i'm working on my new book, Rage Can Be So Pretty, and watching american psycho (again) then i'm going out brazilian dancing. i have no idea how to dance to brazilian music but we'll see.
i hope everyone is having a fantastic weekend. happy halloween. candy apples and razorblades and all that shit.

oh yeah, here's more demonic.
(again, this book is a collection of monologues by each of the characters, this is from the point of view of the nazi-like jock who wants to kill skater punk Marhollow, Devon)

DEVON

Like I was saying, it’s important to wear an outfit that fits into every occasion; even breakfast and murder. This morning I was a dapper devil. I had a cool breakfast and murder type suit on. I was listening to Mickey In The Morning, this very hip morning talk show. Today’s topic – should strippers be sent to Iraq? Hell yeah, what else were the sluts good for. Those soldiers over there were about to die. Their eyes bled from sand. All they ever heard was machine guns. Of course they deserved to look at someone other than George Bush on all his pep talk visits, or bloody corpses in the streets. I mean I think George Bush is a great guy. This country needs someone with real American values and he stepped up and he’s showing everyone whose boss, but I mean come on, give the boys something nice and nasty, you know? If I had time, if I wasn’t running late already, I’d call in and offer my opinion. Now, of course they had some lady on their saying it was sexist. What was sexist about it? They were strippers! This is what they chose to do. Women always took something simple and blew it up into something ridiculous. Women were good at blaming everyone else for what they did with their life. Like my sister, just have an abortion, don’t cry about it, just take care of the shit. I got so tired of unnecessary noise. This brought us to today’s task at hand. Marhollow, he was unnecessary noise. We were going to shut him up. I needed a belt. I didn’t need just any belt, but something that went with what I had on and something I could also bound Marhollow’s wrists with. I had an awesome image in my head, too. Him on his knees, my fingers under his chin making him look up at me, his wrists bound behind his back with my leather belt. Then I’d drop the information, “Jesse is dead, motherfucker. Your girlfriend’s gone to Hell with all the other fags.” Then we’d watch him cry for a bit before we kicked the shit out of him.
My old man was knocking on my door. I called back for him to come in. I was still studying myself in the mirror. I’d found the belt – 37 inches, height – 1.5 inches, textured leather, lined interior, gold-tone buckle closure, detailed logo application. This was the perfect belt for exquisite fashionable impression and it also promised no escape for Marhollow. It complimented my outfit as well, Forzieri shirt and Quicksilver lightweight beach pants. Dad walked in the room and set something on top of my speaker.
“Well, you look snazzy,” he said. He was adjusting his wristwatch. “How was your date last night?”
“It ended a lot better than it started.”
“Ah, that’s my boy.”
“Did you have any problems with Nicole?” I asked. I didn’t bother listening to his answer. I was trying to decide on a wallet. I wanted to make Marhollow bite down on my wallet. It would be wasted, covered in blood. We’d smash his ugly, crooked teeth in for sure. Which wallet did I care the least for? No, I’d take my best one, and buy another one tomorrow. I took my snakeskin wallet and relished in the thought of forcing it down his throat. Maybe I could fish it out after we cut his head off and switched it for Betsy’s.
“She’s behaving herself,” I heard my father say as he left my room. “I’m off to the Estate, son, see you later.”
“Bye, Dad.” I was ready. I was completely ready to kill.