Last night I put on the really fancy white cowboy shirt with gold-colored scorpions (2 on the shoulders and a big one in the middle of my back) and went to the AA mtg. the girl from Sunday she was a no-show! So, I called her today and invited her to Califone on Tues., fingers crossed well see. 'Twas a good mtg, anyway...
In other girl news, I met a rad artist tonight and she gave me her contact info. to do illustrations for YETI -- she happened to have gorgeous eyes and is obviously honest and cool but I'll tread lightly there as I seriously think she's talented and don't want to scare her off from collaborating due to my all-powerful powers of mack; I will finally ask the Mum cellist out this week; plus I emailed this chiquita on Nerve and have started to correspond with her even though 3 of my 4 experiences with that kinda dating were dreadful. At least they were memorably dreadful!
Speaking of memorably dreadful, for this play-thing Im working on this weekend I want to include some of my best stories \ of serious dopefindedness. They include:
* The time I went into the police precinct and turned myself in! (THATS a pretty good one)
* Which was also the same night that everyone on the street was a cop about to arrest me even the fucking homeless people and teenagers (nothing like shooting coke on an empty stomach while withdrawing from dope)!
* The time I was staying at a flop-hose on the Bowery (very thin cheap ass walls with chicken wire ceilings that had old blankets thrown on top of them you could hear old alcoholic men having grunty sex with each other not a sound I hope to ever hear again but at the time I was homeless so it was fabulous) and the guy next to me his radio was playing and all of a sudden it started talking about me! It was saying I was a very bad man and the announcer was broadcasting all the bad things Id done in my life!
* The time I was really high and decided never to speak again and I communicated this with my excellent friend Jane by scribbling the words on a note pad for her I didnt talk for like a full day I was convinced I was being monitored! Krikey.
* The time that every single ad on the back page of the Village VOICE was a secretly coded message to me.
* The millions of times in bathrooms where every single little recess or hole in the wall was magically connected to a labyrinth of spy-cameras all monitoring me in the bathroom
Whew. Paranoia is SO fucking narcissistic. Now that Im not insane in such an obvious way and have a little bit of a clue, it is so nice to realize that the world does not revolve around me and the point of everything is not to reinforce how Im a fuck-up. Also, Im not really a fuck-up anymore!
Halleljuah. What you got going on this weekend? Come on tell me my weekend is fulla work I need to live vicarionously via all yall. Tell me tell me. Please.
In other girl news, I met a rad artist tonight and she gave me her contact info. to do illustrations for YETI -- she happened to have gorgeous eyes and is obviously honest and cool but I'll tread lightly there as I seriously think she's talented and don't want to scare her off from collaborating due to my all-powerful powers of mack; I will finally ask the Mum cellist out this week; plus I emailed this chiquita on Nerve and have started to correspond with her even though 3 of my 4 experiences with that kinda dating were dreadful. At least they were memorably dreadful!
Speaking of memorably dreadful, for this play-thing Im working on this weekend I want to include some of my best stories \ of serious dopefindedness. They include:
* The time I went into the police precinct and turned myself in! (THATS a pretty good one)
* Which was also the same night that everyone on the street was a cop about to arrest me even the fucking homeless people and teenagers (nothing like shooting coke on an empty stomach while withdrawing from dope)!
* The time I was staying at a flop-hose on the Bowery (very thin cheap ass walls with chicken wire ceilings that had old blankets thrown on top of them you could hear old alcoholic men having grunty sex with each other not a sound I hope to ever hear again but at the time I was homeless so it was fabulous) and the guy next to me his radio was playing and all of a sudden it started talking about me! It was saying I was a very bad man and the announcer was broadcasting all the bad things Id done in my life!
* The time I was really high and decided never to speak again and I communicated this with my excellent friend Jane by scribbling the words on a note pad for her I didnt talk for like a full day I was convinced I was being monitored! Krikey.
* The time that every single ad on the back page of the Village VOICE was a secretly coded message to me.
* The millions of times in bathrooms where every single little recess or hole in the wall was magically connected to a labyrinth of spy-cameras all monitoring me in the bathroom
Whew. Paranoia is SO fucking narcissistic. Now that Im not insane in such an obvious way and have a little bit of a clue, it is so nice to realize that the world does not revolve around me and the point of everything is not to reinforce how Im a fuck-up. Also, Im not really a fuck-up anymore!
Halleljuah. What you got going on this weekend? Come on tell me my weekend is fulla work I need to live vicarionously via all yall. Tell me tell me. Please.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
The weekdays should be much better. Hopefully I can attend the Carissa's Weird show on Tuesday. GY!BE on Monday, pulling roadie duty for the Mooney Suzuki / Raveonettes show Friday.
But it sounds like you don't need anyone else's life to live through, you've got enough of one on your own. Good luck with the play-thing and SXSW and all those women that crowd around you, wanting a piece of the mack.