if satan walked the earth in the form of a giant evil invincible robot, everybody would love him. they'd be scared way too shitless to not love him... especially after he incinerates all of the innocents and do-gooders with his laser beam eyes, shoots the ashes with a big-ass rocket, and then laughs like a fucking maniac while shoveling massive handfuls of helicopters and blood and money into his mouth.

i should've written some spirited diary entries in the past week or two. about bumping into a dear friend and spending a strange evening not really together as she slept through most of it. an amber moon. how shel silverstein's thing that goes "...'cause fuck fair fighting!" and "...'cause fuck junkies!" shoots straight through to an absinthe-volcanic wild-eyed absurdsomethingorother bubbling up. champagne bubbles-- going flat. storming into a grocery store to give the cashier a righteous lecture about what's wrong with him tapping the window to roust loiterers off of his bench. dancing to rap, pro patria mori, but definitely not tonight. spotting a friend on the cover of a magazine. schradersomnia and the common-cold. having someone seem genuinely happy to see me just walking across downtown bicycleville one afternoon, for the first time in months. not even a glimpse of johnny marr. a catalogue, no solicitation intended.