james kolchaka blows my mind again.

O;j;O

i'm on my buddy handlebars's couch after work, watching blue planet and listening to him snore on the floor. i'll be sleeping here tonight under a blanket with a tiger on it. earlier i broke up a chick fight, had beer thrown and spit in my face, and couldn't manage to drink more than a sip of a beer. but, in an interesting upside, i listened to some just twenty-one dudes talk about the band they're starting and it made me feel good about myself.

i am by no means a musician. i have never claimed to be and have actively denied it. this is not being humble. there is not a single instrument in the world out of which i can make music. i've been known to, sometimes, make some good noises on my computer, but beyond that, nothin. (which reminds me, i want to make music that kills people: http://www.guardian.co.uk/medicine/story/0,,2154289,00.html )

right, so, the young gentleman were discussing what they wanted the band to sound like. they had jammed, let's say, twice, and were ready to make some decisions. and all they talked about were other bands. i can't remember any of them. i wish i could say they brought up silverchair, but it was mostly respectable music, so i forgot.

it's just never really made sense to me to actually want to sound/look/be like my heroes. they're my heroes, not me. and the thing that makes them awesome enough to be heroes? (or, at least, my concept of heroes.) it's that they did their own thing. that's what made them important in the first fucking place. it someone's already done it, why the fuck do you want to?

this, i think, also relates to my confusion about who opens diners.

right, well, i've already broken my promise to myself about turning this blog into a diary of any sort. when i see this tomorrow (i check my blog like some sort of wierdo. really. totally.) i'll probably take it down, so read it while you can.

oh, and the subject of this is an elephant.

i made a thing.

here's some pictures john strange took of the thing i made.

.,_,.

the title of this entry is a tarantula, ya dig?

i've been thinking about my growing anti-capitalist leanings of late. not to say i'm gonna turn into a dumpster-diving freegan, i'm no total asshole, and i'm not beginning a career as a +5 dexterity thief. i just want another way. i would rather not interact with money. or work. the real problem isn't me. i would stop making money and let my life go to shit if their weren't people who would be sad about it. and that maybe one day some girl will let me grow some smaller me's in her belly, and if that time comes how am i gonna feed, clothe, and educate those two foot piles of hair? but anytime i can get around the normal systems of money, i'm pleased. anytime those in power are willing to circumvent business as government. awesome. i would be a communist if i wasn't such a pussy.

i've also been amazed how how marijuana brings out all my worst qualities and yet i love it so. just reread this entry with that in mind.

haven't been home or near a computer in days. things are good. all in all pretty awesome.

more stupid shit soon.

it's 7/7/7.
you know what that means.
that's right.
the bevel is gonna get you.

watch out.

(this morning i woke up to what i can only assume was a crazy person outside. he was yelling about the end of the world. it's gonna be a weird day.)

listening to "A Collection of Classic Mutants" a fake comp of Zappa-y post punk by Morgan Fisher. it's pretty incredible.

the dragon hadn't slept in years. he'd developed quite a taste for amphetamines sometime in the sixties. people were born, lived their lives, and died, all in one long day to the dragon. he faded in and out of the world, remembering bits. he didn't know when he had moved to this house. or when he'd gotten half his tattoos and most of his scars. sometimes he would look at the woman next to him and realize he didn't know her name, a lot of those times they were wearing matching wedding bands.
this particular morning he was alone.
he shook a little, the ash falling off his cigarette. he walked out of the bedroom. none of the people who were normally around his house were anywhere to be found. he sliced himself a line and looked at it.
"where are my friends?" he said.
"you don't have any." the line responded.
"where did they go?"
"away. out. gone."
"but why?"
"who knows? they were assholes." the line looked apologetically at him. "i'm still here."
the dragon tried to take comfort in this, but something troubled him.