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Fuck me right in the goat ass. First of all, I started out going to a movie after I decided that live music would lead me to liver cramps and that I needed to stay focused on NOT that... right. I went to the theater and the movie that I was going to see was sold out. No problem. I went to another theater and the movie I wanted to see started in an hour, so I went to the local (adjacent) sports bar (not for the sports, I assure you) and ordered some dinner and a beer. I am cursed with this knack for meeting strangers and befriending them... I guess I'm outgoing (or something). Anyhoo, I met this guy from North Carolina and another guy from New York City (Queens) and we hit it off. I was having so much fun talking to them that I blew off the movie and continued until their livers both failed and they died. I went to The Big Easy for Alan Haynes. This guy is absolutely amazing. I am not going to preach about him... let me at least say that I have never seen a man make love to his guitar like that and SRV has nothing on this motherfucker. Period. I went to Baker St. after that to apologize to Jamie and see Harry and Eric play. I, with my unfortunate curse, befriended 2 Scotsman, 3 Brits, and a partridge in a pare tree. I fucking bloody ass ton of Jagermeister and Red Bulls later (with beer in between), I was amazed to find myself here (at home). Fuck me. I'm going to bed.

"The advantages of the emotions is that they lead us astray." - Oscar Wilde
I'm off. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing, but I am done with the walls that surround me for now. Live music is where it's at and I have some writing to do... maybe I'll find a corner and a chianti and my pen will catch on fire. Maybe I won't find anything. Maybe it's just in the looking that whatever it is actually has already been found and the looking is really about that realization and not the it itself.

My phone rings for all the wrong reasons these days. I should disconnect it.

I have got to get out of this house. Cabin fever is severely killing my coffee buzz.

I was out enjoying the early afternoon sun in my fabulous car and pondering life, the universe, and everything. I saw some cute homes for sale in West University that I considered calling to get additional information about briefly... but then images of my little house on the prairie that Erica showed me popped into my head and all those other shanties paled in comparison. I decided to share some pictures of it so you'd know what the hell I was raving about. They really don't do it justice... at all... but the design is incredible. Here they are: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7. I understand that lusting over that home that is not currently listed (and probably out of my price range given it's location) is really not productive, so I started thinking about other pressing issues. It bothers me that non-dairy creamers are infiltrating the market of non-lactose intolerant creamer users. This is clearly another ploy of satan's to take over the world. I don't understand the way we, as a society, have embraced the laziness that exists in all facets of our daily life. How sad it is that even in fellatio and cunnilingus, laziness prevails. Technology rocks, but really, isn't the journey up the mountain half the fun? Why the fuck are airplane ticket prices in a semi-sinusoidal flux constantly? Maybe it has something to do with non-dairy creamer. Hmm? Something to think about anyway. Fucking non-dairy creamer. Drink it black. One you try black, you'll never go back. All this time, people thought that was a sexual connotation... it's about coffee silly! Geez. Kids these days. I swear. Fucking non-dairy creamer.

I woke up this morning a little disoriented... discombobulated. I felt like I was on drugs having just run a marathon, hopped in a hot tub, and was sipping my favorite wine in a room wallpapered with lava lamps. One and one made three and I was so rested and content in my confusion. I rarely remember my dreams. When I do remember them, they are invariably Salvador Dali meets Seinfeld themed and if I could jot them down on paper, I could cash in the sheets for a ticket to the loony bin however, last night was different. I had the most graphic, intense, involved, and completely erotic dream I think I have had in my entire life. It wasn't Redi Whip soundtrack pr0n style incidental or the leather clad midgets with peanut butter and barstools style fetishland funhouse... no, this was romance and seduction and sex in all the ways it should be sometimes that people let slip through the cracks of RealLife™. I don't what series of events let up to that particular dream or what it all means, if anything, but O M G. Maybe it'll make sense when my feet are back on the ground.

Early sleepytime on a Friday night. I hope I feel better tomorrow.

I am just sitting here watching Monster's Ball... good story. I ran into Halle Berry in Cannes in the 90's. She was very polite and quite stunning in person. My cat is trying to help me type. I guess spell check is for pussies after all. Mm, mm-hmm... I reckon I'll get me some bisuits and mustard.

So this is what the Internet is all about. Don't look. It's better this way. You can't turn away... it's like staring at the sun and your retinas burning out. I think I'm going blind. I warned you. Dammit... I'm really disappointed that I didn't go to Dallas. I was so looking forward to the show at Trees tonight. How exactly does a five minute planned email checking skip through my office turn into significant digits on the clock? I hate my computer and it hates me. Chinese food anyone?

I remember now why I don't watch much television. Unfortunately, after that show... it is the only thing I remember.

"When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading." - Henny Youngman
I wonder if anyone actually ever screamed for ice cream. I am fighting a nap. I really need to go outside and enjoy the day. The nap may win this battle, but that little bastard hasn't yet won the war!

smokey reflections and a word like r a g e
the clearing yeilds clarity but the word remains
how cruel clocks tick around hands in the soil
surrounded but alone. his heart pinned on his lapel.
the silence is deafening. a dark whisper in hell.
a teardrop. a promise. a glance from afar.
how cruel clocks tick around hands in the soil

Greg is gone. Buh-bye. I miss him already! It was a wonderful visit. Sam sent me some pics from last night... he has this really cool lighter that has a colored flame that is changeable by twisting a dial that moves filaments inside the lighter. I completely dig it.

My favorite picture from last night is here. What are those guys thinking about?

I'd tell ya... but then I'd havta kill ya...

O M G ! Whomever thought of this morning idea is psychotic. I mean, really... what the hell is this all about!? I had to set the alarm to ensure that I was up to get Greg up... something about a flight... airport? pfft. Rubbish.

I am getting sick. Ugh! I rarely get sick, but when I do, I'm miserable. I'm one of those needy sicks... that needs to be taken care of and pampered and reassured. Absolutely 180 degrees from my non-sick normal personality, but time has shown that as much as I'd like this to not be true... I am just that person. I hate being sick.

Home. It was a great night. I thought Erica was going to meet us at The Big Easy, but she never showed up. Really, that was the only negative to the entire evening. We had drinks at Christopher's, Gingerman, and Baker St. Pub. We went to Mi Luna for ridiculous female entertainment. We went to the Gatsby social club for who knows what reason. Chilaquiles were really the only redeeming facet of the early morning extravaganza and even then Greg was ready to go home. All I really have to show for it is a broken CD and some corny feelings. Hmm...

Lazy afternoon. Greg and I enjoyed a wonderful late lunch at Fadi's and drove around while our espresso laced conversation mingled with the afternoon sun. I took him to this house in West University that Erica showed me. I am completely in love with this home. Looking at it gives me butterflies. I think Greg actually whimpered when he saw it. I need to stop thinking about it now. Bad house... naughty house... no. I love that house.