For some reason, John Coltrane in the oppressive heat like this has an amazing effect. I�ve always dug Coltrane in the summer. I guess I can picture sitting in some ultra hot studio apartment in the East Village, drunk in the summer listening to this. He blows more soul in one measure than most of these shit heads nowadays can�t do on a whole record. You�re going to tell me the guy from Staind is soulful because he �spills his guts� in some crappy power ballad? �It�s been a while� Yeah, it�s been a while, a little while longer than the 15 minutes you are allotted.

Top 7 things I�d rather experience than experience one more day of this fucking heat:

1) Jury Duty

2) Going to the dentist

3) Riding on public transportation

4) See the band Rancid again

5) Go deaf

6) Not have sex for the next year and a half

7) Go down on Courtney Love while John Goodman (playing his character from either the Hudsucker Proxy, or Raising Arizona) �takes me from behind�

The electricity went off in work today 14 times or something like that. We had to keep turning things off and on. We took the little refrigerator out into the parking lot to let the ice melt in it, as we thought it might be kicking into overtime. At one point, I went out to chisel some of the ice away, with a cigarette hanging out of my mouth IN THIS FUCKING GODAMNED HEAT, and I must have hit something as all of a sudden all this white gas came spewing out like sssssssssss. I probably put more of a hole in the ozone layer than the whole crowd at a Cure concert circa Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me. Which reminds me. I probably shouldn�t even admit this kind of thing, but as I do lie in here from time to time, perhaps if you�re reading this (why are you reading someone�s fucking diary?), maybe you can pretend it�s a made up story. At one point in my life, okay, at two points in my life as a teenager in the 80�s I put Aqua Net in my hair, and I also had a blonde patch in my bangs for which I was deemed �Goldilocks� by more than a few of the jocks in my high school (you know what though, those same fucking jocks, I hope they all enjoyed their fucking landscaping jobs this afternoon). So I bust this Freon valve or whatever and white gas comes spraying out and the guys standing with me tell me �you know they say you should never chisel the ice out of freezers, just let it melt� Well fuck me. Who was the guy that said �I have a hammer and a chisel in my truck�? It wasn�t me! Being the boss at work, I get to make some important decisions from time to time. Apparently, this wasn�t the best decision, but my subordinates are the ones that encouraged me, and then pulled this mutiny! What ever happened to just selling records? I thought that�s what we were supposed to be doing, but I spent the day chiseling ice, sweating, listening to music, and discussing the legality issues of fireworks. I like my job a lot more than I lead on I think. It gets to be a drag from time to time. But I like being able to say I work for one of the biggest independent record labels in the country. Sunday was my 5th year anniversary there actually. Whoopee.

I ended up smoking the Morroccan hash on the way to practice tonight. It didn�t really do anything to me. I have this glass bowl, and the hole in it got bigger somehow, so I couldn�t just drop the piece of hash into the bowl, as it was hard as crack rock to begin with. As I learned from being a manager at work: �Adapt. Improvise� Overcome.� I pulled over into the Wendy�s parking lot. The only space available was next to some big sedan with a kid and his mother eating in it. I pull next to them with the windows down blaring the song �Show Me The Way� from Peter Frampton. No I didn�t, that�s a little white lie. I pulled in next to them with the windows down blaring �Suck My Ass it Smells� from GG Allin. No I didn�t do that either. I pulled into the space next to this mother and child duo with my windows down blaring Led Zeppelins �Black Dog�. �Say hey mama, say the way you move, gonna make you sweat, gonna make you groove� I mouthed to the mother, and then winked at the son, and put the phallic cigar back in my mouth. I didn�t do that either. I actually, actually, pulled in to the parking space next to the mother and son (visibly eating a bowl of chili-obviously oblivious to the fact that they use the old hamburgers they don�t sell in that chili) with the windows up, my air-conditioner blasting me into fucking Alaska like temperatures, while enjoying the sounds of�I can�t remember, and it won�t have any bearing on this story anyway. So I get the little cigarette wrapper with the remainder of the hash that I bought in Pennsylvania on May 31st to be exact out. The shit is hard, like 4 day old cat shit. I grab the Marcia Brady button I recently acquired, and put the little sucker on there, and light it with the Philadelphia Phillies lighter that I bought on June 1st to be exact. To the normal person witnessing this, it probably looked like I was �cooking up some hard drugs�, or �getting some crack ready� whatever that means. I got the little piece nice and soft (like that 4th time in a row you have sex, and it�s sort of half hard, half soft, and you can�t really�well, forget that), and was able to make what I like to call �a little hash hamburger pattie�. I still feel uncomfortable putting it in there, so I look around the car�perhaps there�s a little bud I dropped somewhere. I once found a bud that was the size of�I don�t know, an eyeball or something. Like an inch big or something. There�s no buds in sight. Thanks to the last time I ran out, there is absofuckinglutely no resin on this thing, so I can�t rely on that. It�s clear as a bell. I decide to put some cigarette tobacco in there first�hmmm, I have this cigarette I�m smoking, it�s fresh. I could wait until it�s just about done, and then pour the end of it in there. No fuck that, I can�t wait for this. How�s this cigarette in the ashtray, it must be new, it�s right on top! It is a little stiff though. I pour the remnants of the �snipe� into the bowl, and then throw the little �hash burger� on top. The son gets out and throws the trash away and looks into my car. I have this bluish glass bowl balanced on my knee, a cigarette dangling out of my mouth, with all of the smoke blowing into my face from the a/c, a Marcia Brady pin on my other knee, a bunch of CD�s on the seat, and a frantic look on my face as it�s now 8pm, when practice is supposed to begin. I pull into traffic and look around for cops. Thankfully, there�s a cop about a half mile up the road (right after Denny�s for those who know where I�m talking about), with his lights on, with someone pulled over. I have enough time to take at least two hits if I make the lights before I reach him. I take the first hit from this clear bowl filled with presumably a 12 hour old discarded half gram of tobacco and hash. I take a huge hit, forgetting that the bowl is clean, remembering you need to suck hard with hash. Fuck. I should have just taken some hair and put it in there it was so fucking nasty. I got a huge hit of tobacco, with a hint of the hashburger. I was a trooper though, and immediately took another hit, the hash was now lit. Unfortunately, I was just about to pass the cop, so I put it away. I continued on my 7 minute journey, and was able to finish the whole thing. I got a little buzz I guess. This was thrown out immediately upon entering the rehearsal space and looking at the temperature gauge (which is 7 feet from the air conditioner), and it reads 88 degrees. Nice weather to play rock music in, after doing some sort of damage to my lungs. All this preparation for the last piece of anything I have, and nothing happened. I should take it out right now and see if there is anything left. I could experience that �Attempting to smoke resin but actually just heating the bowl up, and inhaling the gas from the lighter� move. Let me try it right now�yup, empty. I know the bong with the �Straight Edge For Life� sticker has something in it from�last winter. Maybe there is a stray baggie with something in it. I want a glass of wine. Red wine. My love affair with red wine in May didn�t last as long as I thought it would. Now that it�s 2AM, I could just retire to the bed. I�d rather fiend around than lay in bed and sweat my ass off though. When it�s this hot, I don�t like to go to sleep until I�m literally falling asleep. There�s nothing worse than insomnia in the summertime.

�Sinful Temptations� has 20 minutes left right now, the little synopsis says �A husband forbids his wife to seek a career as a fashion model � Language, Nudity, Sexual Content-Not Rated/Adults Only� I should go to sleep.

before & after