...on the bowl

so the boy and i went to the museum with my ladyfriend yesterday.

and we saw alot of dead things. and we saw a couple live things.

but we rounded out the afternoon with a trip to madison square park which has the only coin operated bathrooms in the city.

we had first used it on my birthday, when the boy as they say, really had to go. but it cleans itself and the boy learned this the first time he used it from the man who was working there at the time so yesterday, while he was taking a break from playing, he was instructing this gentleman on how it works.

which made the bastard laugh that the boy is teaching people how to go to the bathroom.

—the bastard

messages from the creatures of the deep...

...and other crap the bastard saw in a bar last night


"hi aquaman",

was the greeting the bastard received from a magic marker drawing as he went to take a leak in the bathroom of the 169 bar last night.

"how was the bathroom", my ladyfriend asks me.

"it's a typical bathroom on the lower east side, it looks like a hundred punk rockers took a crap in it and then drew all over it with magic marker. standard"

"cause mattysaintjoe said that it was flooded the last time he played here."

"yeah water was just flying out the door", retorts mattysaintjoe (that's him on the right).

hmmmmm, hi aquaman indeed. the bastard almost dropped hi phone in the toilet over this one.

the 169 was a haven for local thugs back in the day. now it's a haven for folks who really fucking miss cbgb's. there was a girl banging on a piano and screaming tone deaf poetry into a microphone. this trainwreck culminated with her doing the single worst version of you don't own me. the rest of the night, she was yelling, "holla, holla, holla", between everyone's songs. sarcasm i would imagine for mattysaintjoe but definite sincerity for the danish girl who was part of broken down social scene part two. i only figured this because holla girl's whole shit was bitching about her ex girlfriends and judgey catholic priests whole raped her when she was 15 or something. i guess that's the value of a nyu english degree.

mattysaintjoe was good last night although a 50 something year old swedish lady was bending the bastard's ear about how rude his bandmate was to her. and who knows, he may well have been. people just don't make shit up these days. anyway, she told me her story. i told her part of mine justy because this conversation wasn't about what was going on in MY life, it was what was going on in hers. and that the other guy in matty's duo was rude to her. oh well, it still made for a good evening.

oh, right, and they were selling fourty ohs of colt 45 for 9 bucks a clip. being that the bastard spent most of his college career drinking colt 45 for only 2.25 a bottle, i just couldn't do it. that door is closed. but on the other hand, it works everytime.

—the bastard

...on sharps

the bastard has seen tis before in various airports throughout the country.

and i know that these stations are there for diabetics.

but the bastard can't help wondering how many heroin junkies actually use these disposal thingys.

—the bastard