halloween with rowen and the strokes. very crowded. kids pumping devil signs in the air. 'cause that's just what kids do, when they're spending halloween with new york's number one satanic band. i felt ill, by the end. it took five or six hours to get out of the parking garage. a guy dressed as alex from a clockwork orange cut us off with his suv and explained that he needed to leave more badly than we did, because his friend would die if they didn't go to the hospital. then he cranked up "no woman, no cry" on his stereo.

then we got lost in the presidio, listened to oldies radio, made fun of blind people (stevie wonder in particular, not that he's ever done anything to deserve it aside from being blind) and went to ihop.

dia de los muertos with the shelflifers and some other indie kids. everyone was dressed up in costumes. i wasn't. they guessed "the hives" and "interpol." the guy who used to run village in the morning on hotline told me about a movie he's working on, titled "blood ninja III." it sounded awesome, in the way that only movies featuring copious amounts of blood and ninjas can sound. i went home before the frenchmen played, because i suddenly felt sleepy. and missed lloyd's fiesta de los muertos, as well.

lately i don't have the energy or the correct attitude to party all night long. my primary urge is to sit in bed with a bowl of corn chips, with the lights out, watching david cronenberg movies. about demonic children who attack their mother's enemies. a phallic growth in marilyn chambers' armpit that spreads plague. predatory, parasitic worms. insect typewriters. identical twin gynecologists. a gash in james woods' belly which accepts videotapes. a pistol made entirely of flesh and bone, with teeth for bullets. a surrealist universe populated by schizophrenic mutants.

my melancholy rose.