deliverance

I have a house, the landlords name is Norbert. He is the original Norbert, he fucking rocks. I'll try to get a picture at some point, not sure how...he is a spectacular speciman of german-american geekdom. Norbert almost had me convinced that denim shorts, a work shirt with 'pappy' embroidered above the pocket and both a belt and suspenders are the height of fashion.

I have a little job. Just a wee wisp of a job. But it's start. And the house is a wee wisp of a house, but it'll be cozy and I can pack it so full of gubble that I'll have to hang a rope from the ceiling to swing above it to get from the bedroom to the kitchen. The reptile will be happy to be back with me, and will love the weather. life is good.

Today I found out that I get to see Sleater-KInney, Jon Spencer, and the Supersuckers in the next six weeks. This is good, I need some guitars in my life soon or I'll fade from consumption.

I suppose I should add that I am reading the red and the black, wuthering heights and ambient by jack womack more or less all at once. This may explain the fragmented nature of my journal.

It's either that or I need some fucking action, and that couldn't be it.

Stendhal is calling me to bed- good night, my sweets-

pappy