that ain't no way to treat the broken-hearted

i dunno, but i'm really tempted to jump the fence for at least one of the dave matthew's band concerts this weekend. i'm itchin' to join in some more crowds and sway around with other beat-infested freaks who can't form coherent sentences but can speak with the widening of their eyes when a bass line kicks in and have the ability to tell the difference between five minute long guitar-solos for each live song based solely on their collection of bootlegs and b-sides at home.



weird: flaunt being at The Lounge while Respectable's is being ripped down floorboard by decrepit floorboard
weirder: the use of capital letters

but to make up for it all jess, mary ann and myself - with a cameo by bret - wandered the alley behind the lounge doing an impromptu photoshoot on the dumpster, trashed couch, potted plants... as per the usual going ons for my downtown thursday night outtings. they've gotten stranger and stranger over the year(s) but it's people like J and MA who make it so darn enjoyable. say that aloud with a southern accent.

i've got a fucking novel in my head that i just can't write.

actually, i've got honesty in my head that i can't find the right place for. ain't life a bitch?