Mood Surgery

Everyone kept taking pictures of my crotch, so I stole Crystal's bass to hide behind. I later lost the bass and got in a fistfight with Johnny Horseface when I found him posting unauthorized pictures of my package on Madradhair in the Marquee staff room.

The bass was found a week later being used as a contraceptive device by neo-hippies on Charles street. I'm really really sorry, Crystal.

RIP HookerBlood.
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Holy fuck.

Biggest idiot ever.

I've outdone myself.
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Dearest Mood Surgery,

I'm sorry. I've done nothing for you lately. Please know that I still think of you often. It's just that when I tell you something, you tell everyone. It's not yr fault. That's yr nature, and it's as much a part of why I love you so dearly as it is why I think we need some time apart. I know you'll understand because we've grown together in this way.

Stuff is fun and new and old and scary and awesome and new again.

Sincerely.
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The past fourteen hours have been a marathon of awesome.

I'm so totally spent. It feels wonderful.
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Ok, I'm not sure what the hell I was thinking when I agreed to this, but here's the deal: tonight, sometime after midnight (UPDATE- I'm now told it starts at 2AM, sorry), broadcast live on CKDU 97.5 FM, William Erving, Derrick Hiltz and I are going to improvise several hours' worth of what may or may not end up resembling something like music. Yes, that's right. Improvise. I don't remember if I've ever given my improvisation-as-an-artistic-end-in-itself-is-shite rant here before, but in case I have, let me just say this: dude, we're just screwing around. There are no illusions here about the potential artistic merits of this ludicrous experiment. We're punks, not King Crimson or whatever. We know this is retarded. Also, the three of us haven't even jammed -even on like, real songs- in like two months. We's crazy.

Again: 100% live, 100% improvised, 100% dude-that's-a-fucking-long-set; hopefully not 100% crap.

So dust off that ghetto-blaster or listen online. And don't say I didn't sorta warn you.
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I wanna break my guitar
It won't get me nowhere
It's gonna scream at my fingers
I wanna rip out my hair
I wanna throw it on the ground
And turn it up real loud
Kick it with my foot
And throw it on the crowd

It don't matter anyway
If my hands are in the right place
Notes and chords mean nothing to me
Just listen and you will see
It don't matter anyway
If my hands are in the right place
'Cause notes and chords don't mean shit to me
Just listen and you will see


Stand on the stage and you feel like an ass
You look too cool and this won't pass
I won't be sad if I play it real bad
This is the most fun I ever had
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Yeah, yeah, we've already got unity issues of our own up the wazoo:



I still think this makes more sense than the current design.
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Hahaha, oh man, y'know what cracks me up? BUKAKKE! It's like the production line at the splooge factory! Fifty guys in a room together being utterly businesslike about jacking off in unison. Like, do they hang around the watercooler on their midmorning break, wangs in hand, chatting about their boring home lives like some scene out of Dilbert; Live and Uncensored?

"Another day, another dollar, eh, Hiro?" Tug tug.

"You said it, Li." Tug tug. "Hey, did you catch Ashlee Simpson on SNL last week? What the HELL was with that little dance she was doing anyway?"

"Haha, dude, I don't know! That shit was weird!" Yank, tug. "Oh, by the way, I've seen the preliminaries for Thursday's shoot, and I gotta say, stellar work on that nostril shot."

Seriously, who the hell came up with this shit? Did some visionary Japanese guy blow his load on a girl's face, only to think "wow, that was pretty rad, but imagine how awesome it'd be if I had fifty other guys jerking off in the room with me!"? I honestly don't understand the appeal.

But hey, whatever, I guess. I'm gonna go, uh, wash the dishes or something now.
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