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Wednesday, February 5th, 2003
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11:33a - so breathe on sister breathe on
good morning...and why is it such a good morning? because i got to work at 8:30...why? okay, well, i was actually late, but it was *okay* that i was late because this whole working from 7-7 and on weekends is over! no more shall my mind be mired in the hoary morass of incomprehensible Finance meetings! no longer must my soul wallow in the infinite wretchedness they call "Quarterly Business Review!" from this moment hence i am free to wander the peaceful expanse of the internet, allot myself two glorious hours for lunch and work not more than 55 minutes out of every day! in short, friends--i rule. worship me. lay libations at my feet and offer unto me such delicacies as cookies, chocolate, cake and milk. whole milk.
seeing as how i am your new god, i now decree a ban on the show american idol. some of you have heard me call said show a "shocking display of mean-spirited and morbid curiosity" but i would like to amend that to a plain old "crime against humanity." if you watch that piece of crap, you ought to be ashamed of yourselves. i don't know why i say that as if anyones knows shame nowadays. i know i don't.
and that is all. go back about your mundane mortal lives.
"no, but they seem to have an open-door policy for assholes, though, don't they?
current music: iron & wine
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3:16p - don't feed me planned obsolescence
i had this dream last night that the Trio invited me to a coldplay show --which didn't excite me all that much, i mean, they're good or whatever, but fuck if i have any of their albums or can name more than three of their songs, right? but the point was that it was free, and i think you'll all agree with me that there is nothing in this world as cool as free shit.
so in my dream, i'm i'm at this show right? and it's at the paramount right? and you can like drink at the paramount, right? so i was knocking 'em back, right? and i got pretty toasted, right? so in my dream, i was totally drunk and lacked out and all i can remember was that the lead singer stopped right in the middle of some melancholy bastard song, looked straight at the audience and started crooning "it's getting hot in herrrrre....so take off all your clothes," and i nearly shit myself. and then a little while later, the dude was like (please imagine british accent here) "so i hear this is somewhat of an historical venue..." and then he launches into a pretty good eddie vedder snarl of "who-ho i'm still alive, hey-eh-yah-yah" and the crowd pretty much erupted, as one would expect a seattle crowd to erupt when anyone tips a hat to grunge.
fucking early nineties, fucking grunge. does anybody miss baggy jeans and red flannels and oxford doc marten's with flowery dresses? yeah, i didn't think so.
i will say this, though-- in my dream, the opening act was ... uh...well...they were, how does one put this? they were called brash and they must have been mightily talented musicians because the guitarists, right, i could see their fingers moving over the frets and i could see them plucking and or strumming but somehow, through their infinite talent, every fucking thing they played sounded exactly the goddamn same. it was freakish. and they were total posers--i couldn't help but think that avril lavigne rocks harder, and she doesn't rock at all.
now what's scary is that this was a dream and yet, i'm kind of treating it as reality. does that make me weird? i mean, if a dream is so realistic and full of verifying detail that you're sure positive absolutely certain at the time that what's happening *is* happening...well, it happened, didn't it? didn't it?
or is that just how schizophrenics rationalize delusions? i am clearly a crazy person.
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