Archive for August, 2007
Thursday, August 30th, 2007
Last week I was drunk at a party when I got a seven-part text message from an ex telling me he has HIV. Two down. I just tested negative, I’m fine, that’s not what this is about. I just couldn’t believe he told me that way. And then didn’t answer when I called the next day and never returned my message. I’m not going to press it because he obviously doesn’t want to talk right now, but what a thing to do.
And today my favorite person that I work with found out they have cancer. It’s a regular shitshow around here, I’m getting sadder as the hours go by. It’s hard to concentrate and to send emails about fashion week and figure out how I’m getting to Long Island tonight for a meeting. It all feels pointless.
Tuesday, August 28th, 2007
“XXXX is so fucking baked I want to punch him.”
“in my dream last night you helped me burn down the white house and james earl jones was the president”
“A girl on the train was smelling a sample of the sarah jessica parker perfume & I started laughing. she caught me & was visibly offended. “i had to have it”
[screen name about having sex with jon benet]: “hey its brian, i got a new sn”
“Last night I dreamt I took my mom to misshapes and someone let a chicken loose on the dancefloor”
“someone is consuming rancid chinese food [on a bus]. Trust me ill call you as SOON as we arrive.”
“Lewis Black will be here partying at 1am!”
“Wraa I cant sleep cuz im excited to see youuu and play in nyc haha and I just watched like 4 hrs of rock of love”
“Drunk bitch central. S.O.S.”
[from Ray]: “so, I saw Nicole today, the world is small, hope all is well with you” [this, to me, is like the Geico commercial where the caveman interrupts and says “Tina’s here, we’re getting back together!”]
“My old supervisor who is a thirty year old jewish woman living in New Hampshire just commented on my [nude] photo set. Im straight trippin”
“Im sitting around a campfire while people sing third eye blind.”
Tuesday, August 21st, 2007
“Silver Lining” on Rilo Kiley’s new album is the song I want to play at my funeral. And I want everyone to wear black but dance down the aisles in pairs like a wedding. My mom should be given so much food in casserole dishes and my brother has to wear a fedora and a suit that fits. One that he’ll want to wear again. That’s what I want to hear and see when I float up and away.
Friday, August 17th, 2007
BRAD: Hurricane Dean
Now we’re sharing the same dream
And our hearts they beat as one
No more love on the run
KATHY: stop typing me carribean queen
BRAD: ahhh how i love billy ocean
no no
i was singing “hurricane dean”
it’s different
KATHY: stop your hurricane parodies
BRAD: By the hurricane
(The hurrriicaaane)
By the hurricane.
The Flossie, Flossie.
KATHY: it’s raining first claaaaaass from up in the sky
BRAD: if you ain’t got no FEMA take your broke-ass home
Monday, August 6th, 2007
Read
Friday, August 3rd, 2007
Bubbles of love, Natalie?
I’m working on a new scrapbook of images I’ve collected, and this is one of them:
I have no idea what it is or where it came from, but it’s got a bear head and and Oberlin sash so I’m pretty much sold. It almost looks like a Terry Richardson, which is to say, a great picture without having any characteristics to distinguish it from a disposable shot taken by a seventeen year old in Cleveland, but somehow it’s just better.
I bought six pairs of nice gray socks yesterday and there is nothing better than wearing new socks. Especially socks like these. New and dark and soft and gray.
I worked on some music that I am so so so excited for.
SINEAD: im going to be on an erotic cooking show brad
next time youre in a hotel room
you’ll be able to order me on pay per view
and see my ta-tas while i cook pasta
GEORGE: i cut my hand on my razor in my bag this morning. it wont stop bleeding.
ME: emo
