1. Wednesday, July 9, 2003

    i so dont want to be here. 

    last night i wanted to write but i couldnt. i got home so late. i got on the phone. i couldnt get off the phone. i loved who i was on the phone with but i wanted to get off of it.

    i wanted to just write, which is a joke. the only time i can write is in the early morning. before even the sun comes up. before even the bow breaks. before the devil gets his way with me.

    it was nice listening to the new tsar song and it was nice asking whalen if i got certain lines right and it was nice of him telling me that i was wrong in certain places but keep it in cuz it was funnier. i want those guys to take over the world. i want the best for everyone. but i so dont want to be here.

    its grey in la today and the tv isnt working in chopper one. some mornings i just sit here in the hangar and watch regis and just wish that i drank coffee cuz i would sip it and let it slide over my lips and across my tounge that hasnt kissed anyone in so long and down my throat and into my gut and through my blood and poison my heart and slide out my ass.

    good morning heartache why you wanna give me the morning paper when its the times. time says stand up. time says get dressed time says get on the crowded bus. time says man stand so close to me when no one else is standing on the bus that his pinkie finger touches my thumb. time says its time for me to move to the opposite end of the bus because i am not the buddahs belly, you shouldnt touch me for good luck because i dont even want to be here.

    old lady with a wheel chair where her legs are sicking out horizontal is taking up four seats in the front. you want to hate her but number one shes old number two shes in a wheel chair and number three she only has twenty three friendsters so you gotta feel pity and i wonder where shes going this morning, if youre an old lady why arent you watching regis from your pissy smelling old ladies bed.

    homeless crazy drunk guy walks down the aisle of the subway. i dont know that he doesnt have a home he just looks all wacked out and cruddy. face looks like he had a competition with a dog to see who could hold their face out the window on the car ride down from alaska the longest and the dog lost. but hes got the most wonderful hair and as he passes i see theres not a wallet in his back pocket or a phone number of a girl who just wants to get it on no strings attatched but a plastic blue brush and if you know you got it, flaunt it. and all that fuck has is hair. and i so dont want to be anywhere even near here.

    mind in motion + welch + layne bootlegs