Pretty good evening over at Catherine’s. I didn’t think I would go, because I was still feeling socially retarded. Went anyway. Everyone else got drunk off their asses and I had one glass of wine. Home made pizza is always a huge win. Talked excitedly about music with this guy Dan whom I hadn’t met before. Waving arms around and shouting happily about THE REALLY HEAVY STUFF we both like, you know that crap where punk gets totally out of control and 69’s with metal. Crunch crackle BOOM ow my tympanic membrane.

Meanwhile of course vegemitelover was drunkenly dancing to Madonna.

Tomatoes stuffed with risotto are a Good Thing.

The air stinks of smoke and huge chunks of ash are falling on me.

Bought at Tower today: Turbonegro’s “Ass Cobra”, King Crimson’s “Discipline”, Pavement’s Slanted and Enchanted double CD deluxe thingy, and I finally replaced my copy of Big Star’s 3rd.

Couldn’t listen to that last one tonight, though. 3rd/Sister Lovers is a risk factor for depression.

got any gum?

It is a yellow-sky day with drifting ash from the Cucamonga fire. Time for some depressing digital photography!

My ash day gallery

Yellow yellow yellow, everywhere, and bits of ash on everything.

http://iggy.fringehead.org/album/cat/tn/pouss-me.jpg.html

And her, surprised:

http://iggy.fringehead.org/album/cat/tn/pouss-what.jpg.html

I hereby declare stimps a bad person for singing “Take on Me” by A-ha at me.

TAAAAKE MEEEEE ONNNN HAGHAGLAGHAGHALGAHGLHAGAHGALGHAG HANG ON I HAVE SOMEHOW MISPLACED MY DENTAL DAM

Chlamydia: ‘Lingam gnosis is based on the belief that all penises fall into one of four broad essential categories, or types; fire, air, earth and water. Most commonly, however, penises are a combination of two or more of these types.’
ignatz: OW OW I HAVE A FIRE PENIS OW
zebulon_y: Mein Schwanz ist der Feuer Schwanz
ignatz: (12″ mix, 1987)

My world is cold and without hope.

However, this is a fine damn cup of coffee!

Panther was a pretty painless upgrade. the X11 is in Applications/Utilities now and it didn’t remove my previous prerelease X11 install in Applications; otherwise it was pretty painless. My cd writer is being wonky, though, not sure if that’s related.

I continue to lose weight, which pleases me; the Anti-Death project is going ok.

It was good to see Steve & odradak & Lisa & Keri last night. Come out more often, y’all.

I am trying to figure out how “Oh Sheila” by “Ready for the World” ended up on my playlist.

Killed another night in Costa Mesa. I should have gone to the Apple Store and geeked out with the midnight Panther crew; that’s about the speed I could handle tonight.

A hundred little social anxieties and sorrows pecked at me like baby ducks tonight. I was alone, excluded, unwanted, ugly, redundant. A dozen aborted half-conversations, fumbling and intrusive. I’m the fifth wheel, the albatross, the wacky friend, the guy who gets killed in the first reel of every horror movie.

The redeeming feature of the night’s events was appropriately bitter. A couple of blowdried-beard Dan Fogelberg/James Taylor style nut-nibbling ass-cheese folksucking mellow-ass MELLOW FUCKS showed up and set up an elaborate sound system plus drum machine for their two vocal mics and Ovation guitars and proceeded to launch into a set that included one of my personal musical dealbreakers: “Leaving on a Jet Plane”. I called out on my God, Old Testament Style, to strike them down.

Four songs into the set the management told them they were too loud, in the wrong place, and starting too early and they broke their crap down and left.

BEFORE ABRAHAM WAS, I AM.

Then everyone else went off to their night of exploration or their boyfriend or girlfriend or something, and I bought animal crackers and drove home to sit on the couch and listen to the dryer and type on my computer. The movie has once again gone on without me.

Evenings at the Big D Ranch lately have been spiced up lately by some really high-quality crazies.

First there’s Grizzled Prospector Man. He has a mop of gray hair, a scraggly beard, bad teeth, and a too-friendly grin. He always wants a cigarette from whomever’s smoking, but it gets worse. He then wants to sit down and join the conversation, which he will enrich with inappropriate laughter, long red-eyed stares, and 2 minutes straight of grinning and nodding.

Much more frightening is Twitch ‘n’ Stare, who’s been there at least the last two nights. He’s about 40, very tan, short hair, dark eyes and hair. He appears to be tweaking pretty severely and is restless to the point of violence. He picks up a chair and walks about with it, sits, smokes, watches the TV inside the Napa from outside, goes from table to table. Occasionally he’ll say something or try to break into a conversation like GPM above, but with a bouncy, angry edge to him, as though he’s torn between twin desires to say howdy and to slit your throat.

The other night as I was going to my car he cruised by and leered out of his car, sending beams of demonic energy directly into my eyes and paralyzing me like a deer.

I’m afraid, Mommy.