nu uh your smiling they are way to rock to smile DUH lol jk

The eviction party was super crowded and kind of too much to deal with until the police came and told everyone to go home. N and I hid in a back room with some peeps and emerged to find a much more intimate get together. I totally prefer small groups to crowds - plus i was wearing my new red shirt - so the night turned out to be pretty fun.

I bought this red shirt last week that has magical, super powers. When I wear it people are super nice to me. Not that people are dicks to me when I'm not wearing the shirt, but i definitely notice the difference.


I wore the shirt to the eviction party so I ended up meeting a lot of new people and even reuniting with friends I hadn't seen in years. One person I met was this guy, J, who was into asking people this:

"If you could see Kurt Cobain or Jim Morison right now, in their prime, who would you choose?"

The correct answer, and everyone seemed to agree, was Cobain. They were both talentless hacks when it came to lyrics, but at least Cobain's music holds up.

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After having a few drinks with my Dad at the Albatross I hit the BART and met N in the mission to check out a bunch of short films that her friends and fellow film students had made. The place was a tiny room filled with chairs and had a big projection screen on the wall. There were maybe twenty shorts, a few minutes each, made mostly by budding art students from the local film school. I think I may have been the only person there who was not attached to any of the films being shown.

The ratio of awesome to total shit was about what you would expect. Two or three were pretty decent. One thing that's proving itself over and over again is that if someone doesn't know they suck then they probably also don't know when to stop. Songs, movies, whatever.

I think it's good to keep things short - especially set lists and songs. Just in case I totally suck and don't realize it. Hmmmm I should probably end this blog then - although nobody paid $7 to read this.

I want you

Today was sledge hammering my barricade open and running some errands. I was turning into a shut in and it felt good to walk around telegraph, bumping slow walking fools out of my way, dodging petitions and feeling some much needed sun. Fuck anxiety: I'm buying some new fucking shirts.

I had it pretty together in AA until I was next in line and some fool in front of me was, i don't know, trying to negotiate a hostile takeover of Nabisco with their fucking ATM card or something. What I mean is this: They were taking a really long ass time to purchase their goods. The line was getting long and - props for me for getting out of the house - but the crowd was starting to turn and naturally my ears started buzzing and sweat started pouring. I made it out, obviously, alive.

I only lost my cool once: Dude said "that will be $114" and I did, like, a "REALLY?". I got it together pretty quick though. Sometimes I forget I'm PAYING for the uncomfortable atmosphere.

Around 9pm that thing happened where every song playing on my stereo decided to cater it's lyrics specifically to my situation. Everyone knows once it starts - it's hella on. I'll bend the lyrics to "ice ice baby" so somehow it's a metaphor for whatever sad ass thing I'm feeling if I have to. (NOTE: As I'm writing this "Getting Better" by the fucking Beatles just came on... Touché universe.)

Off to an eviction party near the Ashby BART. I've always thought eviction parties were the best kind of parties. There's always this "steer it into the sun" mood. Endings and new starts etc. My cousin recently went to a divorce party and said they put eviction parties to shame. I could see that. Any fool awesome enough to throw a party in celebration of a failed marriage probably knows what's up when it comes to getting fucked up.