Oh Joy!
2003-04-18 || groucho marx, phyliss diller, and don knotts walk into a Kinko's and start xeroxing copies of Henry Miller's "Crazy Cock"
Soundtrack � The Rolling Stones � Now!

I almost have all of these reissues now. When I listen to these, I remember how great Brian and Keith�s guitar sound was, it makes me forget I was in love with the Beatles last week. I was sick after all�

So�this afternoon:

Sit in your lonely apartment and wait for phone calls and look into the picturesque kitchen, too bad you have no idea how to take pictures�it would make a great one. Perhaps an album cover for some crappy �guitar driven� indie rock band from the Midwest. Nobody likes a bragger; nobody likes a selfish critic. I got to the point years ago when I realized nobody�s opinion mattered. I can�t stand the constant judgments; I can�t stand the constant use of �I� in conversation. There are far too many of these folks around. Ironically, I judge them. How many boys, and how many girls have you tricked with that faux sensitive facade now? It�s nauseating, unbecoming, and just plain stupid. The minions would surely turn on you if they saw what you see in the mirror in the morning. Who is going to call you tonight? Who are you going to share another tired imported beer with tonight? Who are you going to share your wealth with tonight? I feel sorry for the yes men in your life. I feel sorry for the women and men who have had your tongue in their mouths. You talk of heart break, but you are way too young to even know what that means; you get your ideas from Robert Smith, who has been with the same girl for over 20 years now, so how the fuck does he know either? The only reason I don�t let them get to me like you do, is I have some self esteem, I know where true beauty lies, I know where you get your ideas from: your experiences at the bus stop. I know where you get your charm and wit, from others. I never steal, I�ve never stolen. I take small ideas and form them into something else completely. I know what you taste like unfortunately, as the summer heat does that to a man, but for the most part, I�ve forgotten how bitter it is. Men and women who cry are surely pussies, I know this.

before & after