Stand Perfectly Still, Hands in Robot Position, This is How to Fly

Had a flying dream last night. The way to fly is to hold the invisible rails so you look like a rock em sock em robot with your arms held out in front of you. Your ability to leave the ground is dependent on the strength of your arms, your ability to support your weight from crooked elbows. Floated around the top of a fast food joint, descended to scare an ex.

write a paper have to write a paper

This morning I went back to bed after getting up. As a reward, I received a dream of fucking a french cop who was manhunting me in Vancouver after I had fled something or other by going over a waterfall in Idaho. 2 french woman cops.

link to online comic “I Talk to the Wind.”

$20 for Afrika Bambaata- Let’s Get Expensified

I stopped in at the Virgin Megastore on my way back from Barnes and Noble tonight (big corporate shopping trip) to maybe give in to the urge to get a disc, but they wanted $20 for the new Afrika Bambaata. $20. $20. I, uh, $20.

I got the Big Silver Motor of Sin EP by Two Lone Swordsmen earlier today. I like it… but I wouldn’t have gone so far as to call it an EP- more like a single without the original version of the single track- only the b sides. If I had realized that, I might not have paid the $7, but at $7 it’s still almost worth it. I’m remembering a time when cds didn’t cost much more than $7 at an indie record store. What is going on?

Good to See You, Safe Travels

Put Vlad and Sveta in a car to the airport about 30 minutes ago. It was good to see my friend again. It’s good to pick up friendships where they left off. The plan is to hit Moskva this summer. Safe travels, brutha.

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.