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I would love to post some video of my boss' daily ranting. He is a severe diabetic, and is both extremely hyperactive and cognitively challenged as a direct result of not taking care of himself. I give him 5 years, tops.

Good human, actually, but wildly fucked. And in charge of my financial wellbeing, for the moment...

On my way to a couseling appointment I found a tiny yellow ninja on the ground

This afternoon I finished a book and felt disappointed in the state of my 'to read' shelf, so to remedy that and cheer myself up generally I took a spin up to my 'secret' second hand book shop. Over the last couple of years, this place has been responsible for the bulk of my reading material, and been cheap enough for me to discover some writings I'd never have looked at if I'd had to pay full whack. Whenever I go there, I go straight upstairs to the fiction section and just go A to Z and pull out loads of great things.

As I was doing this today, I heard the proprietor explaining to a slightly drunk old boy that he's phasing out the fiction because he's losing money on it, and only his wife's job pays for the loss he makes in the shop. So he's going to concentrate on the quality non-fiction he has.

'Damn,' I thought. 'This'll be why all the books are £1.00 today.'

So I went for broke and came up with twenty-one cool buys (for which the guy charged me a straight twenty quid - he's knocked money off for me before, perhaps I should've... never mind). See picture. I'm elated to have such fine reading home with me, but upset that I'm losing my secure supply.



There's three Francoise Sagan's in there, two Henry Miller's that Mr BookKeep speculated are out of print (and have semi-nude women on the front... ah, the seventies). Two Saul Bellow's and I'm going to dip my toe in Philip Roth for a pound alright. And some other whatnot and faffle.

I chatted with him about the fiction as I left, and he said one gratifying thing to me: "y'know, not everyone's like you - buying loads of books everytime they come. If they were..."

Salut, Chevin Books!

I saw what I can only assume was Steve Albini's replicant walking around a club in a KMFDM shirt last night.

While trying to pick cereal out of my teeth this morning, I found out that what I though was cereal was a broken tooth fragment, and my prying broke it off. It's the edge of a molar that broke off, just larger than the size of a large grain of rice.

My new dentist had me come in right away to take XRays. Apparantly I need a root canal, two crowns, and maybe a different tooth pulled.

For the time being, though, I have a very jagged edge in the back of my mouth.

Ben Adrian

Walked from our apartment to the Ballard Sonic Boom with my baby-mama and the kiddo. Picked up the new albums by The Thermals and The Bronx on LP. Also bought the new Camera Obscura (I don't hate it as much as I thought I would) for her. On our way back, I spotted one of those guitar stands for five guitars, which happens to be the amount of guitars I currently own, in a "free shit" pile on the sidewalk. Baby-mama is very happy that all my guitars have a "home," now.

Later, while feeding my daughter (who turned a year old a couple weeks ago) dinner in her high-chair, I was tickling her on her feet. She sat up all the way in her chair, gave me a stern look, and shook her head "no" at me. This is probably the cutest thing I'll ever see in my life.

I've been depressed (about my impending 25th birthday, how silly!) for the last couple days, but today actually turned out pretty good. Hopefully my asshole downstairs neighbors decide not to have another raging party tonight.[/url]

This is a detail from a day long ago. 1989 I think. Poison Idea was going to play an early afternoon show at Dreamerz.. My roommate, a friend and myself walked a couple of miles to get to there, tho I don't remember why. It was a nice day, and that might have been reason enough.

Anyway, we got there, and there was something going on out front. A pack of skins were mulling about, including a comical sickly looking kid with boots, braces, a cane and a fucking bulldog on a leash. apparently everything was late in starting, and Poison Idea had yet to arrive. Word got around that because of a show later in the day, only the opening band (Screeching Weasel) were going to be allowed to play, since they were already there and had soundchecked. This really pissed off the skins.. Poison idea show up right as all this is happening. They are pissed off to, which the skins pick up on. The skins now begin to make threats to Screeching weasel band members who are hanging out as well. That they will beat them up, or ruin their future shows. That sort of thing.

My friends and I have no interest in this aborted event and go to Burger King instead. They finish their food and want to start back towards home, but I am still eating. No problem, I grab up all my stuff and eat while we walk. Then I am finished eating, and have my hands filled with trash. What to do? I balled the trash up as tightly as possible, and began throwing it up in the air as high as I can, and catch it as we walking (I also like to do this with candy, tho I catch the candy in my mouth). This is great fun for half a block, but then a breeze catches the trash ball, and blows it right into an open window of someone's apartment on the second floor. They must have been right there, cause there is loud swearing seconds after the ball disappears from sight. My friends are instructed to run, and we do! We are not man enough to face my trash crimes.

Then we walk some more. 1/2 block from home we take a road constructing thing with the blinking light on top to decorate my apartment. The roommate thinks this is bad, but the friend is helpful. That might be reversed. Anyway, that is how I can to live with a construction thing.

next time I will tell the story of how I plotted to steal the Jesus Lizard bus stop bench.

i'm trying to record songs using my computer microphone and it doesn't sound that great.

I just found out that my nearest neighbor, a father of four (one of whom is mentally handicapped) lost one of his legs in an accident at the coal mine where he works.

Brett Eugene Ralph wrote:I just found out that my nearest neighbor, a father of four (one of whom is mentally handicapped) lost one of his legs in an accident at the coal mine where he works.

I don't know if that qualifies as a little detail Brett.
Terrible.