aoife

Sometimes I just have to be grateful that Mick Jagger and David Bowie exist. Whatever deal they made with the devil, it was worth it.

Apropos of the Devil and David Bowie, I've been catching up on the Lucifer comics and feeling grateful that there's someone out there carrying on Neil Gaiman's legacy of great storytelling coupled with insane knowledge of arcane mythology. (How many of you Sandman nerds knew that Lucifer was actually based on Bowie? Yeah, that's right. I know this.)

I thought that finding Born To Run in a thrift store for fifty cents was the best find ever. Until my friend Jonathan found a three-foot-diameter Born To Run on vinyl at Hootie & the Blowfish's house (one of them, don't know which, he works construction and was working on their house) and ran off with it. That is the coolest thing EVER.

Aside from my shirt. And raiding Manifest in Columbia for Nick Cave's "First Born Is Dead," Lydia Lunch's "Queen of Siam," a Johnny Thunders comp, and Best of Heart. Yeah, Heart. got something to say about it?

You know a director's got a feel for music when you see a movie scene in your head every time you hear a song. Sofia Coppola has totally made me see Kirsten Dunst and Josh Hartnett every time I heart "Magic Man" and "Crazy On You," and then today at the bike shop, of course, the fabulous "Stuck In the Middle With You..."

Birthday countdown still on. Drunkenness will be ensuing soon.

J. wants me to write a band bio for the boys before they head to Nashville to play at some festival. He better call me before I commence to celebratin'. Well, he better join the celebratin' too.

Today at the bike shop:
me: Hey, N., my birthday's on Monday.
N.: Does that mean I have to BUY you something?
me: no, dipshit, it means you have to get drunk with me.

All this drunk talk sounds so lame. But it's been quite a while since I've had more than three drinks in a night. And this will be a good excuse to try and round up a bunch of people for some fun.

(Random-ass journal entry, non?)