I'm counting the minutes until I can go get the new Scott Walker album, and the new EC. As usual, Seester is the total goddess for keeping my life going on many levels, including EC tickets for a show here in two weeks. That ought to cleanse my overcloggedwithcynicism palate.

I've been so busy with other shit, and fighting off idiot people and idiot impulses that I've not completed anything writing-wise in two months. That's not like me. So, tomorrow, it's back to the routine: Get up, coffee, write for four hours, discard 80%, go on with life.

Finally saw Brokeback Mountain. What a shame that after all the hype, all it is is a chick flick. Not enough male nudity to even register. Pah.

If he's reading this, I'll tell it true: I really wish Philip would get off of his high horse and pay some sort of visit. I do not want inside his pants. I don't even want inside his brain. It would be nice, however, to just kibbitz about life for a little while. Oh, well.

On abooooot not a thing.
::dorknoodle::