Art Tatum was clearly from outer space. Weee-ooo. No other explanation.

Loosey goosey, sweaty, high, curious, meditative, full-lunged morning. Fancy footwork downstairs and a hearty bassline upstairs, a lightness of touch, a generosity, a rubber band, a see-saw, a greased bearing, a negotiation by instinct. Happy Friday.

Took a tranquilizer to the butt this afternoon, in the form of a double-wide burrito. That'll cool your jets.

Retreating now into headphonelandia.

Things are gonna slide ( Read more... )

What can a girl do when she's on hold with the IRS? Bliggity-blogg, of course ( Read more... )

Total input overload. By midmorning I'd already given my phone the finger twice, and that was just while listening to voicemail. The e-mail got it three or four times.

Burping an excess of fluff and air, aggrandizing, speculation, bluffing. Mmmf. Time to tune in to something else.

I'm in a casting fog! I can't see! And where did all these fetish models come from suddenly?

Some days your jaw just stays hanging open.

Fantasy catalog, page 12: I am throwing a leg over a road bicycle and go whizzing through the city on a warm weekday. Hard to believe, but it even beats speeding down Highway 1 in a Tercel. I will a teflon forcefield around myself and my two wheels, and together we negotiate traffic like a mofo, reading drivers' minds and slipping right through ( Read more... )

The modern age has massive image-diarreah. Cheap commoditiy, crazy consumption. Fuck it.

Hiccup.

I have discovered the Misfits.