"People don't keep journals for themselves. They keep it for other people, like a secret they don't want to tell but they want everyone to know. The only safe place for your thoughts is your memory, which people can't take and read when your not looking--at least not yet."

Older entries: June 21, 2002-June 23, 2002


Much older entries

June 23, 2002

I downloaded that Dirty Vegas video everyone's been making a mess of their underwear over. I think it's cute that the boogaloo/breaking/popping guy in the video is dancing in the shoes his old girlfriend gave him and trying to win her heart back. One day when he's famous, Gabe will be popping on the street in the Pumas and Adidas he's gotten from me. I'm gonna admit that I like that song, even if it is from a Mitsubishi commercial, and even worse, circulated on Top 40 radio. I even watched t.v. today. There's been a whole lot of Run DMC on VH1 lately. Boy, were the clothes cool back then. I'm not the only one that thinks old men these days have cool jackets. Gabe and I once saw some dude in his 70's or 80's rockin a whole royal blue Adidas track outfit. We wanted to stop and take a picture with him and tell people it's Gabe's grandfather.

June 22, 2002

We went downtown and I ended up buying bought a bunch of crap because it was cheap. Like a Pony bag from Hot Topic for 6 bucks. People only buy stuff from Hot Topic if it's cheap, at least I do. I wait while everyone realizes their stuff is overpriced and doesn't buy it so that it just sits there until the managers mark it down. Look at the pairs of phat pants they sell for 68 bucks, jesus christ. It's expensive to be a raver these days, isn't it kids. The target isn't punks anymore, it's ravers. B3 Candee must have made a deal with Hot Topic to get some more people to go to their massives. Cuz I think if they have the clothes, the kids will use the last of the cash they have to go to How Sweet It Is or some other party. They have to show off those ridiculous pink parachute pants.

Speaking of massives, I've finally downloaded the song I heard at Audiotistic last year by Blackalicious and never knew the name of, "Deception." Before I heard it at ROb's house I only knew it as, and I'd have to sing this, "La dee dah dah duh de daa.." And then I got it confused with J5's song that goes, "Da da da, duh dee duh dee da da." Ha ha. Right. But yeah, Deception. Talk about a good song. When they did this at that hot and muggy hip-hop room at Audio everyone sang along with it and it sounded so great. That was when this kid was stumbling around on K and E and LSD and every other letter of the drug alphabet, falling down at people's feet. Me and Jon and Hester had to grab him and prop him up against the wall so he wouldn't drown in his own vomit. Boy was that ever sad. And just so that I don't sound like a hypocrite, Hester got us into Audio for free.


Figure 1.1: One of Gabe's many cool jackets.
I also got Brian a shirt from hippy hell, Urban Outfitters. It's yellow and it says "Greetings from Amsterdam" over a line of bud leaves that go across the shirt. Gabe got some Puma pants to match the jacket I got him. (See Figure 1.1. I know, I'm a dork.) Anyway, after that whole downtown fiasco we went back to his house and played with the chihuahua he has for another week or so, Zeus. Three and a half pounds. Then I had a craving for meat, hee hee, so Gabe went out and got some Carl's Jr. (Don't ask me why I phrased it that way.) Tonight an old friend from Mesa was having a house party, but since I get up every Saturday morning at 7:00 to go to work, I always pass out when 10:00 or 11:00 p.m. rolls around. It's really a pain in the ass, being tired Saturday night. I can't do anything, I'm catatonic.

So I fell asleep in Gabe's bed, and when he tried to wake me up I told him about the dream I had that I was cutting open a person's thigh, sticking my head through the hole in it, and telling an audience how to cook it. The thigh. He laughed and I told him it was real, that it really happened. So he kept making fun of me while I kept falling in and out of sleep, which I find really scary especially when someone in the room is talking because you don't know what's really going on and what you're dreaming. I said, "Stop, you're freaking me out," and passed the fuck back out to drool all over myself. The Food Network is always on at Gabe's house because he wants to be a chef, which must explain why I dreamed I was a gourmet cannibal. Where the eating of human flesh worked into the equation however, I don't know. That might just be me. Hey, I just found a picture of my audience. Heh heh.

June 21, 2002

I woke up late to work today from sleeping so damn well. We hung out with Tom and Nick last night. We had some beers and checked out Tom's new jacuzzi. It's beautiful. No more having to break into random community rec centers and getting busted by security. But beer and a hot tub will do it for me. I got home and passed out, not really even feeling anything from drinking all day, but when I got up this morning I felt so damn shitty. I hated being awake and I hated being at work. So I went across the street on my break and did something utterly fucking ridiculous and obsessive, I bought a birthday card for someone who doesn't even know me, and sent it to him. I know, I know. But in a weird, kind of giddy, schoolgirl secret crush sickness, it made me feel better. Tonight I'll be boiling rabbit for dinner.

When I was paying for the card and digging change out of my little makeup bag, the old woman behind the counter said, "You must be very confident. I read that only very confident women know they'll get through the day with such a small purse." I thought that was kind of funny because it couldn't be farther from the truth. I come to work with a tote bag for my cell phone, notepads, makeup bag, etc. and another bag for my goddamn laptop, tape recorder and a change of clothes for when I go out after work. On those days however, that means I have an article due but I'm going out after work and I can't change. Needless to say, my luggage says I'm unmistakably the least confident person there ever was.

My Bosstones article has to be done in a couple days and I hate listening to that stupid tape. Dicky Barrett was so goddamn grumpy. I wasn't prepared either, they didn't send me a press package with the new c.d. So the fact that the band just got back from Europe the night before and he was doing phoners all day before he talked to me just compounded my unprofessionalism. Thank god it's not the cover story. Life's not easier with this cold I still have either. I've got one of colds that make everyone want to damn near puke when they hear me cough. It hurts and feels like there's a phlegm phantom possessing my body wanting to escape when I cough. In fact sometimes it comes up in the form of green crap. Okay, I'll stop there. Yeah, I know, stop smoking. But even if you don't smoke you cough up green crap! Alright that's enough.

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