03/31
          Somewhere on Highway 93, Nevada; ominous shadows in the dark. Monstrous, terrifying earthen muscles that rise hulking into the night sky to be silhouetted by the moon and stars through wispy strands of cloud.
          107 miles to Las Vegas. A round of shots. Coffee in a can. CCR on the stereo.
          The approach is a long crawl through more desert abyss, moon hiding, sky clear. The faint glow I first take to be a distant dawn sun reaching over the mountain horizon is the city itself, a shining box of fool's gold, visual pollution seeping into the atmosphere.
          We're caught in their tractor beam. No choice now but to venture through the mouth, down into the beast's belly.

03/30
          Ontario, Oregon; pubes in the urinal. How did they get there? What the fuck do you have to do to get your own ball hair to fall out while you pee?
          Maybe I should ask Elvis. He does seem to know I'm a hound dog. To me, that's proof enough of his wisdom.
          Wasn't Elvis found dead on a toilet? And here I am, in a gas station toilet, hearing his voice. His ghost remains, haunting toilet users across America. The bastard.
          A dog in the parking lot. Fat. Brown. Confused.
          Robot men from the anus of Mars.

03/29
          Seattle, Washington; submerged, underwater. A foggy coral reef in green-blue ocean. Fish flicker red and white in parallel lines, traveling opposite directions yet going to similar places.

03/28
     young men, running about, pretending to be children; an attempt to reach back toward animalistic years of wild adolescence that were missed due to protection from parents, engulfment by girlfriends, addiction to introspection...
     reliving memories that never happened, rewriting the blank page of past.

brick house

i have been listening to a vinyl rip of this song since around noon or so. yeah. on repeat. a couple breaks here and there, but, the train is still rolling. i even put it in my recording software so i could edit it and have it loop seamlessly, so it literally never ends. so funky.

self-publication

i've always produced all my albums entirely by myself (including artwork and booklets) but now i'm trying my hand at the publication words rather than music. sure, it's for class and there'll only be one copy, but it's a first step in the right direction. plus it's gonna look rad.

currently consumed by:

star wars, coen bros., kubrick, tarantino, beavis and butthead, writing, reading, contemplation, procrastination, coffee, nonsleep.

best shit ever

no, seriously

this isn't the particular upload i want to use but it's the still the same video, i presume.