I'm thinking maybe I should stop drinking.

I woke up again this morning in a place I didn't recognize, with people I didn't know, and I had no idea how or when or why I got there in the first place.
I just feel lucky I didn't wake up in the hospital. Again.

This week is gonna be my sober week. I bought books; I'll just stay home, read and drink water.

My brain hurts.
It's so fucking hot in here.
I have to work with people whose IQs are less than their shoe size.
I haven't been sober two days straight since the start of the summer.

Good things though. I've been jamming with a couple bands lately, which might lead to some live action by the end of the summer.
Next week I have a job interview to deal poker at a card club on the Champs-Elysées. I should be sober for that.

Tonight is the France/Italy WCS finals, but I'm working, which gives me a good excuse to not watch the game.
I do hope we win though so I have a good excuse to get loaded after work.
Actually, fuck it, I'm getting loaded either way.

Hey, it's been a long time since I last wrote something in here.
It's spring now; the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the beer is flowing.

If cats have nine lives, how many lives does a human have ? Given what's happened to me last month, I'd have to say at least two. To make a long story short, I crashed my little motorbike into a moron who hit the brakes in the middle of rush-hour traffic. I was doing a nice 50 at the time (K/h, that would be 30-35 mph I think), and the sudden squeeze of the brakes threw my ass over the handlebars and into traffic. How I got out of there alive with only a hole in my leg is beyond me to this day*(see footnote), but I won't whine about it. The leg is fine now, I removed the stitches last week and I can walk and jump again. Yay.

I'm really stoked that I healed just in time for the Dropkick Murphys concert Friday night. I mean, what's a Dropkick concert if you can't dropkick some fascist skinhead every once in a while ?

*(footnote) = This is nothing short of a miracle, as if God had given me a second chance at life. I decided to squander this divine opportunity by getting severely wasted, fucking up my liver with alcohol and my synapses with psychotropic drugs all spring and summer long.

We're gonna give ya
A punk rock christmas this year
And I'm gonna give you
A nice sweater all ripped to shreads,
Get mum and dad a sheet
Get some safety pins for their cheeks
It gonna be
A punk rock christmas this year

-------------------------

Happy holidays, get wasted, try not to kill anyone.
Love.

I started playing bass again this week. Now my fingers are bleeding. My left hand is so sore that I can't even jerk off anymore.

On the plus side, this has given me opportunities to get to know my neighbours. I have thus discovered that the man living in the next room sleeps during the night (what a freak, honestly...) and that it is therefore not a good time to be musical. Not if I want to keep all my teeth in my mouth anyway.

Work is starting to get cool. I think I deserve a break after four years of brain-numbing work on horrendous children's cartoons.
Now I get ninjas and shit. Fun times.
I'm picking up on Japanese vocabulary as well. I doubt that phrases like "Stop ! Run ! Bastard ! I'll kill you ! Behold my secret technique" will help me pick up japanese tourist chicks in montmartre, but it's a start, I guess.

I found this in the street last night and decided to adopt it :



Like my friend Alex said upon the discovery of said item : "Sombreros in December ? What the fuck is the world coming to ?"