Brad Walsh

Future86 Sucks

I’m writing here again because I don’t have to think much. And I can censor and edit a lot less, I guess. Now that this blog has gone from hundreds and sometimes thousands of hits a day to double digits as I abandoned it for JunkMag, I can come back and do some rambling! Yay!

Facebook is the new MySpace? MySpace was the new Friendster? Buzznet was the new nothing?

I cut my hair myself last night. With the exception of Jimmie in my living room a couple months ago, nobody’s really cut my hair except me in the last ten years or more. It’s much shorter than it was yesterday. I don’t really care much about my hair, nor do I want to spend money for someone else to cut it. I manage to have an attractive date without an Aveda fade.

In the last month or so there’s been a lot of really weird, sometimes predictable, sometimes not, stuff going on with people I know and people I vaguely know, resulting in a lot of head scratching. Empirically, hookups that I never thought would happen. A lot of them, a lot of gross. Like, why would two self-respecting people I know deign to fall to the level they did? Ugliness! They all turn around and hate themselves for it, but still. Blaming alcohol is not really kosher. Friends having realizations lately, new things happening for people. For me. I’m officially doing photos every week for Ruff, ST, and MisShapes. Sometimes Gawker. Conflict of interest? I don’t think so, since I’m interested in all of the above. A fan of it all.

Been mailing CDs to people. Been mailing shirts to people. Been e-mailing mp3s to people. Been trying to ignore someone away who doesn’t get that while I do not want to have trouble, I certainly do not want to be friends. No hate, no love, no factor in my life, there’s no need for it, stop approaching me. We exist separately and that’s the end of it.

I am happy with the things that are happening and the people who are interested in my creative parts. I am amused by the fact that I am making more money and getting better feedback as a photographer and musician and designer than certain people who went to school for it, and I am basically one big untrained accident.

Like Gay Fitzgerald in Hell, I will beat on, a boat against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the ass.