man yeah “iggy pop in berlin in the late 70s” is definitely a spiritual plane i “”identify with””

i reckon this would have been around the time THE IDIOT was recorded, which, yeah dude

How did this happen? I thought I was bolted down. And now I’m daydreaming and shit, and feeling that aching faraway sadness! This wasn’t supposed to happen, but then what the hell else is new. I don’t know what to do. I’m so light and rubbery right now you could cut me in half with a god dang paperclip, for god’s sake. I got to work on things, and disconnect my head from the other thing, but I also don’t wanna. Hah!! At any rate this is only going to get worse, this feeling this way, but again: what else is new??

I walked to the post office and bought a book of international stamps and I reckon they’re all dog-eared for the same address five thousand god damn miles away! And tonight I’m gonna get a bottle of cheap stuff and rove around if anyone wants to come. Every time I say that, someone really does take me up on that. Cool! Let’s do it!! Please!!! Otherwise I’ll just get gooey-eyed and melt and slip down into a storm drain.

That night at the hotel, in our room with the long empty hall outside and our shoes outside the door, a thick carpet on the floor of the room, outside the windows the rain falling and in the room light and pleasant and cheerful, then the light out and it exciting with smooth sheets and the bed comfortable, feeling that we had come home, feeling no longer alone, waking in the night to find the other one there, and not gone away; all other things were unreal. We slept when we were tired and if we woke the other one woke too so one was not alone. Often a man wishes to be alone and a girl wishes to be alone too and if they love each other they are jealous of that in each other, but I can truly say we never felt that. We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others. . . . But we were never lonely and never afraid when we were together. I know that the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained in the day, because they do not then exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started. But with Catherine there was almost no difference in the night except that it was an even better time. If people bring so much courage to the world the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.

ahh man i think about this all the time

we went rollerskating today and it was really cute lol

i cut myself shaving but all is well and i’m seeing all my buddies tomorrow night, including [redacted]

(mario voice) yahhhoooOoooo!!!!

also: my left pocket on my denim jacket (a symbol of my individuality and my BELIEF in personal freedom), is kept unbuttoned cuz i use it a lot. inside is a gas station lighter, a comb, and some chapstick. yes:

the right pocket is always buttoned because it’s full of crap that is only occasionally useful. if i don’t button it, it’ll all fall out when i toss my jacket onto my bed or whatever

anyway i guess i hadn’t looked in there in a while. i just did and baby it was christmas morning. it is, i think, in addition to my left pocket, a visual representation / perfect encapsulation of my dumb lifestyle:

so uh looks like we got:

  • a business card for an art gallery in hamtramck that logan and i went to when i was in detroit
  • an icelandic 5 króna coin jess gave me when i was in chicago
  • a trojan ultra-thin condom (lol)
  • a hunter s. thompson cigarette filter
  • a 15mg extended-release adderall capsule
  • a button of hali palombo’s boyfriend’s face (daniel knox!) that her little sister mable gave me
  • emergency gatsby pomade (lol)

hey baby you never know!!

BONUS ROUND: my keys

that datsun, a guitar-shaped bottle opener, a skeleton key to my house, a utilikey dad tool-thing, a handcuff key (lol), my bike lock key, keys to work. . . .

IN CONCLUSION: i love it.

FINALLY: with my jacket on, monty and i are going on a wild two-day bender tomorrow night. see you at my funeral on monday!

well. . . .

SOME TIME AGO NOW, I said I was going to hire an intern to ride into Eternity with me. I had this idea a long time ago . . . around the same time I came up with the funeral for Kermit the Frog. The passing of Kermit and his subsequent death ritual have come to pass. I did it! And so now I must fulfill yet another one of my dreams from the past. Even if it’s terrible and doesn’t work out, I need to know that I tried. And anyway, if this does work, it will serve as Proof Of Concept for the doomsday cult I’m going to start in Berlin. By which I mean: are they really gonna buy what I’m selling? Or take what I’m giving away for free, really. . . . (et cetera)

How do you convince some puppy-dogged UC Berkeley sophomore to hang out with you three days a week for free? What experience can I offer them in exchange for their serving a cult of personality that was wholly alien to them not long before they fell dick-first into it? I wonder.

AT ANY RATE: My Craigslist ad is pure and beautiful. I think I’m going to throw it into Acrobat and use some nice fonts and shit like that—and then, in the middle of the night, go around campus stapling it to cork boards and telephone poles. Some gorgeous saint among us is sure to GRAB a TAB with my email address on it, and see what it’s all about. That’s the sort of patriot I’m looking for. Hell, I’d do it if I saw such a thing. And why not?

So! Standby! I’ll introduce this son of a bitch here soon. I gotta start the interview process ASAP. Yeah. I’m stupid by the way!!!


i promise that i will resume our regularly scheduled programming later this afternoon

thanks to my secret friend for sending this to me, the starsailor!!