Weary, Pre/Post Drunk

The lesson here is: don’t leave your bike anywhere chained to something such as a bike rack or hitching post or some such thing. Nothing is what it appears.

Vlad and Svetlana are back in from their trip home to Illinois, crashing again at my house. More beers.

Yesterday me and Vlad split a 6 of Brooklyn that was bad- gave us both the shits. Or else it was the cigar. In any event I almost shat on hipsters on my way to a restroom at the student center, all wandering around bedecked in their pre-LeTigre viewing idenitities and swagger, getting in my way on my beeline to the bathroom.

Svetlana and I had a halting conversation in Russian about my predilection for Asian women. I tried to extract the factors that drove me again and again to the asian babies. I said I like brunettes. I said I like the pale girls. I like the dark eyes. I guess I like the Eastern women, after all.

I try to talk to all the girls that come my way, in times of plenty and in meaner times. Honestly.

I want to hear the new Afrika Bambaataa before I buy it, but the “Metal” remake with Gary Numan is almost enough for me to shell out on its own.

I’m going to see the driven Ted Leo next Sunday. Good times. I’ve been trying to convince people to go with me, but I already have my ticket, and fuck it if people think I’m going to steer them wrong on music. I’m going alone if need be.

I’m also in the market for a copy of McLuhan’s Wake, a film put together in the past year and a half or so about Marshall McLuhan. Aside from being a bit, uh, devout, it did a fair job of summarizing the whole McLuhan thing.

Oh, and this building is almost finished.

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