Sunday, August 21, 2005

Around 6000 people a year die in mine disasters in China.

The bass player plays in a Smiths cover band. He says the singer’s hispanic, and doesn’t really speak english. I didn’t ask if he sings in spanish.

The quote of the week, from Mr. Robert Head; “She’s doing that girl thing where you go crazy. I hate that.”

I saw a lot of people tonight who were going somewhere. Maybe they weren’t really sure where, but they were walking fast, and had a look of anticipation mixed with uncertainty. There’s something about saturday night that makes people feel like they must do something crazy. Must get wasted. Must get dressed up. Must fuck. Must hurry up because it all has to be done and cleaned up before they turn into a pumpkin on monday morning. I just want to get out of their way. I don’t have a weekend. I don’t feel that time limit. Saturday every night. Never a monday morning.

Happy birthday MD.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

damn that capt america. miss him. miss hanging out with you guys.

also dont have a saturday night, i know exactly how you feel. funny thing is, i know how those folks feel too, cept that im not afraid of monday, just afraid there wont be a tomorrow. or afraid that this silly fairy tale im living will end abruptly and messily.

saw MD on the train the other day. i didnt say hello. neither did she. dont know why yet. i wonder if she saw me too.

oh yeah, not in jail. didnt have to go. maybe i should have. maybe i should have ended up there tonight as well/instead. maybe would have made for a better story. instead, my friend ended up in the psych ward at harlem hospital. things are fucked up with that. and him.

must end this before it becomes a blog of its own.

2:02 AM  

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