well, then. now that, ahem, some people crossed me off their lists and i assume no one's looking, i can get back to work on this. dash off a long ramble about this n that n this, before going to see what is sure to be an oscar-contender, next year: "malibu's most wanted."

never minding dates, since i can't remember any of them, let's just say that this begins roughly a couple of weeks ago and ends roughly now. having been ill for a while, and then well for a few days, i accepted rowen's invitation to do something... so we went to this ghastly place on market street where boys dress up like industrial cowboys and wear kilts. friends old and new, upon meeting, quickly exchanged notes about what a mean, belligerent drunk i can be. or tend to be, i guess. i would counter that i am cheerfully belligerent, at least. a few days later, anshuman and i planned to see a cronenberg movie, but it didn't happen because i showed up late and drank wine instead of trying to get to the theater on time. and arrow.

and i caught another cold, much too soon. and yay, i got over that in time to see numbers (rocked), xbxrx (rocked) and deerhoof (terrible). someone got a smashing idea kicked into their head to crowd surf vertically, upside down, legs straight up in the air. to which i responded, "YES!! THIS IS THE NEW THING. FUCK THAT HORIZONTAL SHIT, MAN. I SHOULD GO HOME AND WRITE THAT ON MY DIARYLAND.COM PAGE BEFORE I FORGET IT COMPLETELY. FUCKTHATHORIZONTALSHIT..."

somewhere in there, i found time to putter out to wine country to see "my life with morrissey." it wasn't great. but it had some funny parts. i was surprised to learn that the director works on spongebob squarepants and filmed the movie largely in the offices of nickelodeon. and how do you top off a weekend of such hystericous randomtude, but with a dance party in davis california with old friends, much wine, "wtf is this eclectrocash music" and prolly some offensive remarks?  okay, i'm not really 100% sure about the offensive thing, but i have been saying "fuck awwwfffff!!" and "get the fuck outta my waaaaaaayyyy" a lot lately and otter (of all people) called me an asshole.  plus, i kind of embarrassed this girl by bringing up the subject of the party where she fell down with a 40oz bottle in her hand and acquired a huge wicked bad-ass scar, shaped like a lightning bolt. i think i thought she kinda was cute, but she looked like her brother and that's pretty weird (no matter how wicked one's scar might be). except i didn't actually top the weekend off with all of that, although it did happen.

because the next night was boyfucker at the edinburgh, where i would've been exxtreeemely stoked to see roscoe and leon's band if not for the fact that they didn't even show up. but i did get to hang out for a while with tony perple before he moves to orleans gone wild. rowen showed up and asked why i was in such high spirits, just sitting in the back of the room with a martini, not watching the band, and laughing at everything. she remarked that there were a lot of fatties in attendance, and i laughed. she accused me of being a scenester because all of these indie peeps kept stopping to say hello. and i laughed. then after the show, a bum wandered in off the street, sat down at our booth and tried to pick up on her... she asked why her other friend and i didn't tell the bum to fuck off, and i laughed.

then i explained my little theory, that when you hardly care about anything, both positive and negative emotions rise and fall like the tides. joy and hate come like divine inspiration. they dissipate harmlessly, and it's awesome.