"...and all the colored girls sing..."

OR 1,327

1,327 Miles—Door to door. That was my weekend. Took off early from the QV Mo and made my way back purgatory. I had spent the last two weeks enjoying the holidays with family and friends and friends. Hung with the Thrilla bros. at a show in Brooklyn, did some work in Dean Thrilla's basement with Jonny Airplanes. Hooked up with Matty Aces, and Jim of Spock at the Croxelys, did the college circuit with Judge Roughneck at the croxelys and the city. Did time with the ex, her new but old dude (they were friends when we were together and hooked up after sometime between the time she was in California and now in Texas) jules and sleepy pete. Ran into the dirty stay out there (she's back in NY) and ended up hitting the sick of it all/hatebreed show at Roseland with her later in the week where I ran into HR, who I hadn't seen since the days of Tower Ur (now officially closed) and his Two-Man days. Word was he dispeared the way of Mike D, stumbling in the middle of the night never to be heard from again, that is unitl he shows up at a thrilla barbeque. Earlier that day I did a late lunch with Wilt the Chef and Marmon and finally found out what a sous chef is (it was so obvious I felt as if I had drank some of that retard juice most people seem to be drinking these days.) Sprinkle in some family time with ma dukes peeps and the elder's brood and the bastard on JC's birthday eve and the Chairman's Board on the big day and there you have it.

I walked the line of hangover and feeding the beast the entire time, hence the moratorium on writing and the lack of pics.

Anyway, on the way back of a trip that took entirely too long—I spent an extra hour and a half on 95 in Virginia sitting in traffic that had no cause. I went through B'More and DC without a hiccoup even though there was a Giant game at the Redskins joint, and a Former Presidents funeral going down. Maybe they were all going to see Jefferson Davis' carcass in Richmond, I don't know but I do know two thing about Virginia drivers, they either drive like maniacal shitnecks weaving in and out while alternately tailgaiting for the joy of it, or they are tapping their brake pedals to see if they still work. At any rate, if I offended any Virginia drivers with my statements, good, I compleetely meant it.—i was driving through North Carolina when it happened. I normally listen mostly to mix tapes in the car during the drive but every once in a while I listen to local radio for a change of pace and to hear a another voice other than mine yelling at virginia drivers. This usually comes about in either Maryland, that has two kick ass stations—one a blues station I don't remember the number and Ocean 98, which you can't get on 95 and NC which has a multitude of fine rock stations, after all, NC is the home of the punk/garage rock festival "sleezefest." And it never fails I always here Lou Reed's "walk on the wild side". Yeah, I know, radio is known for playing the same stuff over and over, but i can tell you, within the limited number of total minutes I listen to the radio in what is now the third round trip to NYC via "Honey" *(that's my car's name), I can tell you that the only song I have heard every time I've made this journey is "walk on the wild side". I guess it's just one of those things.

Last night I watched the "dexter" the bastard (aka old man bastard) hooked me up with through 12 oclock. I have a moratorium on New Year's Eve's going on right now. I slept through last year. Got to say, it's working for me.

do— do do, do—do do do, do—do do, do. do do do, dooooooo
Happy New Year people, try not to hurt yourselves this year.

mofo

ps for the bastard

While Weeds may have jumped the shark in the finale Dexter jumped it in its first episode. I'm a fan though.