"I know that pain and I also know what dulls it: telemore dew, the afghan whigs and many, many strippers" - donal logue. That might just be the best thing I've heard in a long time, because its true. And as I careened down the interstate at irrational speeds toward my next destination tonight, Greg Dulli was screaming on the stereo and my face finally wore the first smile of the day. Because ther
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i moved, about a month ago, into a perfect little apartment for one, on the perfect street, in the perfect neighborhood, and i've been perfectly...losing my mind.the thing about moving, more than anything, is the moving itself. i reveled my my new architecture, drooled over my new address, fawned lovingly over my enviable view and drop dead gorgeous windows, but then i turned around, and saw every
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in a time when everything and nothing seem to make sense, when i've stopped writing all but entirely, and almost abandoned my blog here, it seems sort of apt that i find myself writing this, doesn't it? a lot of things have gone horribly wrong lately. but it doesn't mean they won't get better, or better yet, get weird and then get different, but that's not what i'm writing about. despite the fact
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hit a real bad slump on a friday nightgot whiskey drunk, got into a fightjust don't know when to say no morejust don't know when to say no morewell i tried to come inyou said you understoodanyway what do you want?gimme something that's goodjust don't know when to say no morejust don't know when to say no moreyou said there you are man,i thought you were gonewe resolved our little differenceand mov
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a lot has changed in the past month. where i sleep. who i spend all of my time with. whether or not i write. my whole world has gone topsy turvy sideways in the last month, but some things stay the same. his voice on the other end of the phone still makes me feel like Christmas morning and comfort. my ankles still hurt when i wake up in the morning and scream in pain in the evenings. i still work
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1. what do you put on a mixtape for the guy who has, literally, fucking everything? 2. pandora does NOT suggest music i care to hear. i find this odd, to say the least. 3. whiskeytown is my current obsession. yes. again. 4. punk rock chicks who seem to have it all figured out don't. its what makes us seem like there's something dangerous, i suppose. the vast, uncomfortable unknown. 5. i saw this b
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funny thing, i just finished an article on the same title, placed, oh so fucking predictably, in one of those fashion magazines, with sexy new Calvin Klein and Prada adverts, such complete clarity should always be packaged in beauty. i hear pandora's box was fairly gorgeous that season too. i'm also laying the wrong way on my bed, on my stomach, listening to paul weller's carnation crack off of a
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Its that week of summer that I've been told other people dream of. Escaping, rather entirely. At the moment my hair is still full of ocean water and there's a line across the apples of my cheeks from the big sunglasses, another few lines across my back and front, precise, oops i fell asleep in the sun tanlines. I just came back in from sitting on the porch here, listening to whiskeytown and the oc
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i never thought i'd say this, but i like driving without the airconditioning on. i do it when i'm by myself, with the windows down and usually with my hair pulled back. it was almost a hundred degrees today, and the minute i was alone i pulled away from the curb and fingered the buttons to let the windows down. then the sunroof open. i like the sickly sweet feeling of the heat seeping in around my
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