"In the world which is upside down, the true is a moment of the false."
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| rock and roll means fuck "In the world which is upside down, the true is a moment of the false." |
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Thursday, January 30, 2003 33. ain't that a bitch. posted by downtown | 5:51 AM Tuesday, January 28, 2003 Nuclear This is where the summer ends In a flash of pure destruction, no one wins Go nuclear. Nuclear. The violets in my eyelids goin' red Sentimental geek Shut up and go to sleep The calm, the beach and the remains Of the bathing suits and Porsches all in flames Go nuclear. Nuclear. When I saw her and the Yankees lost to the Braves Sentimental geek Shut up and go to sleep Give me an answer my (p)resident frightens me. posted by downtown | 3:55 PM Sunday, January 26, 2003 whew! we did it. we pulled it off, kids and it was a major success. Act Up For Peace And Justice! was a hit and it raised a substantial amount of money for the organization. plus, my friend amy sold some paintings. it rocked and, in at least some small way, mattered. the food not bombs kids fed everyone. CAUSE was there. sway rocked the muthafuckin' house as did about 9 other bands. it was good. exhausting, but good. time for bed. listening: charlie parker "she rote" feeling: spent, old, happy. posted by downtown | 4:48 AM Saturday, January 25, 2003 "Well, when you're sitting there In your silk upholstered chair Talking to some rich folks that you know Well I hope you won't see me In my ragged company You know I could never be alone Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the mail Send me dead flowers to my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave Well, you're sitting back In your pink Cadillac Making bets on Kentucky Derby Day I'll be in my basement room With a needle and a spoon And another girl can take my pain away Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the mail Send me dead flowers to my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave Take me down little Susie, take me down I know you think you're the Queen of the Underground And you can send me dead flowers every morning Send me dead flower by the US mail Say it with dead flowers at my wedding And I won't forget to put roses on your grave No I won't forget to put roses on your grave" posted by downtown | 4:19 AM Friday, January 24, 2003 jarvis cocker makes me wanna wiggle . does this mean i'm gay? i hope not. i don't wanna be a girl, i just wanna kiss them. christ, i'm loaded. get me to a slumbery. posted by downtown | 3:29 AM Thursday, January 23, 2003 my roomie, somewhat of a serial dating cassanova in the past few months, has a pretty major admirer at present. a celebrity even. published poet and novelist, owner of an apartment in chelsea, writer for a hit network sitcom-bi-coastal-type celebrity. she's been drunk dialing and such for a couple of weeks and now they are out to dinner. it's krazy. go, roomie, go. absolutely lovin': the muthafuckin' raveonettes. "attack of the ghost riders". "it sounds somethin' like this..." jeez, they rock. posted by downtown | 10:42 PM Wednesday, January 22, 2003 fuck, dude. it was only a matter of time. posted by downtown | 4:20 PM i may be doing st. patrick's day in nyc. i am going to try to line up some job interviews and such on the 13th and 14th and party like a madman with my friend amy over the weekend and especially on the feast day. sark was fun and great and all, and i really needed some family face time and such, but i really need to rock nyc style for a bit. some no-name airline says it can take me round trip for $227. we'll see about that. with all the way cool shit we have purchased in the last week or so, i should be able to jazz-up the reel considerably, make it shine. i just hope i haven't been away too long. crikey. rockin': the raveonettes "cops on your trail" feelin': strangely (perhaps foolishly, more than likely foolishly) confident. posted by downtown | 3:39 AM in the interest of full disclosure, i should reveal this: as an undergrad at the university of texas, i recieved a partial scholarship named for my grandfather's brother , one of Ike's right hand men and the first person to hold the title "national security advisor". this money covered about a third of my tuition over five(!) years. (i know, i know.) it had nothing to do with my admission to the school and i would never dream of taking such things and then asking to slam the door behind me. that's just shitty and just wrong. just thought it would be proper to disclose this in light of the lashing i afforded our (p)resident earlier today. rockin': le tigre "my my metrocard" (loud) feelin': ever more radicalized, ever more estranged from my country's culture. i'm serious. posted by downtown | 12:56 AM Tuesday, January 21, 2003 i so fucking love this guy. i'm so totally gonna marry him. posted by downtown | 7:23 PM ya know, it's funny,when affirmative action was a white male only, one way street, many of its current detractors were a-o-fucking-k with whole idea. just peachy with it were most of these folks, actually. the fact that women and minorities were excluded from education, the political process, the right to private property, the judicial process, etc... for well, ever rumpled a precious few eyebrows amongst the ol' boy elite. the women, the catholics, the jews, the irish, the chinamen, the poles, the mexicans, the goddamned negroes had no place in polite society and should be damned grateful for the benevolence showed them at any given time. many people marched, fought and died to dissuade them from that opinion. every disenfranchised group in the history of this nation, every goddamned one, (ask women, the native americans, the "negroes", the irish, catholics, the "chinamen", the italians, the germans, the homosexuals, and countless more) have had to fight tooth and nail, often enduring horrible violence and public persecution, to finally assert their rights as citizens. it's a horrifically ugly history with a shamefully long and detailed index. lord, forgive us. then my president, a man i despise regardless, a man who could possibly be the most perfect poster child for privelege and preferential treatment one could potentially muster shows up at the university of michigan to tell the nation that the university's policy of allocating slots to its law school which does, indeed, factor race in to its calculations, is "unfair". this from a man who should know all about such things as getting in to yale with piss poor grades, having your dui/coke bust disappear, getting a much coveted spot in the air national guard (defending texas from.... ...mexico?) only to go AWOL for a year , having your pop's friends bail you out of every hare-brained business venture you ever drove straight in to the goddamned ground and having your pop's political cronies (s)elect you to be president of the united states. i would say that he must have some amazing courage to question such policies given his silver spoon past, but i just don't think he's even conscious of such hypocrisy. the worst thing i can say about the man, the most damning thing, is that after all of this, he still thinks he deserved it all. wow. posted by downtown | 3:51 AM Friday, January 17, 2003 this is my new most favoritest radio station. it rules. in the first 15 minutes i heard s-k, big drag, the von zippers and big ass truck. kudos to the kiddos, ya'll. posted by downtown | 6:49 PM working for the city does have its perks. i know i bitch and moan about it sometimes, but it ain't all bad. yesterday i got to help spend about $30,000 of other people's money on way cool shit. way, way cool shit. and today, thanks to our taking every other friday off, i am experiencing day one of a four day weekend. so, here i am rocking some pell mell from the badtz-maru boombox, enjoying a cold beverage and contemplating all the cool stuff i want to do with our newly acquired way cool shit. it could be worse. posted by downtown | 4:59 PM Wednesday, January 15, 2003 i'm as kooky as goddamned loon. i get home from work today exhausted, go to bed, have super shitty dream followed by massive cramp in my right calve muscle, and now i can't sleep. i'm pretty freakin' loopy as well. still not comletely back in this time zone and such. anyhoo, since i can't seem to do much else, i'll post. in lieu of something interesting or relevant to anything, i will offer a 10 best list of music i purchased or saw in 2002, in no particular order except maybe the first couple. it's a complete tossup from there, friends. here goes... wilco "yankee hotel foxtrot"/the flaming lips "yoshimi battles the pink robots". they're both brilliant records. wilco grows up and out simultaneously (karl wallinger of world party once sang it as "leavin' on all sides...") and the 'lips release a record that may not be there finest, but does include a few of their finest songs ever. both these records had more soul, took more risks and were more sonically satisfying than pretty much anything else out there in my opinion. kudos to both. sleater-kinney "one beat" s-k grow up, too. corin had a child and you can really hear some of the maternal fear for the future, for her child's future in not only the lyrics, but the music as well. it's also got a busload o' soul (for all the best reasons) and some absolutely fierce playing. a perfect match. i got to see s-k three times in 2002. they are the best live rock band working right now. take that to the bank. "disasemble your discrimination..." doves "last broadcast" bloody brilliant. beautiful, cool, surging and sincere. a total fucking gem. sway "self-titled" a shoegazing, fat guitar, melodius freakout with gorgeous pop hooks kinda masterpiece from a local band that just ruleths all they survey here in the absolute worst live music scene i have ever encountered outside of my shitty, shitty hometown. props to swaypop. steve earle "jerusalem" once again, not his best record, but a few of these are the best he's ever done. even without those songs, this is still better than 99.997% of the insipid schlock that we citizens are subjected to on a daily basis. cheers, steve. the white stripes "white blood cells" this is a great record it really is. i so dig it. however, through the discovery of this band through this record, i discovered the first two. "de stijl" is a muthfafuckin' masterpiece. find me a rock song with more soul, more down and dirty lust, more freakin' guts than "hello operator" and i'll kiss yer ass. "you're pretty good lookin' (for a girl)" has got one of the greatest rock and soul gee-tar riffs of all time. jack white is my rock star hero. tandy "the bloodroot transcriptions" by far the best country band in brooklyn delivers yet another little treasure. god bless tandy. they make life o-fucking-k in so many ways. joe strummer and the mescaleros at the hootenany 2002 in irvine (ick). i'm not just saying this because the poor fellow just up and croaked. really, folks. his performance was thoroughly ass-rattlin'. the mescaleros stuff was way rad. everyone in the band (except joe, actually) played every instrument. rocketh, it did. but he also kicked out "police and thieves", "white man in hammersmith palais", "spanish bombs" and "know your rights". it rocked. i'll damned sure miss him. cheers to you, mate. clinic "walking with thee" they're friends with radiohead. i know. i read the papers, but, if you are looking for a frame of reference, i say they are an english bridge between the residents and pavement. way, way fun. honorable mentions: sonic youth "murray street" yeah yeah yeahs EP interpol "turn on the bright lights" bonnie "prince" billy "i see a darkness" bright eyes "the story is in the soil; keep an ear to the ground" the promise ring "wood/water" sigur ros: "()" listening: buffalo tom "sleepy eyed" feeling: kinda tired finally. posted by downtown | 4:11 AM Tuesday, January 14, 2003 the brooklyn underground film festival needs a staff grantwriter. i have been thinking about the city all morning. i am so fucking tempted. also, what bills itself as the world's largest anime film fest is looking for a director in nyc. might be time to update the ol' cv. posted by downtown | 5:22 PM Sunday, January 12, 2003 buried dad two years ago today. one of the hardest things i've ever done. i'll be ok, pop. i'm ok. listening: willie "pancho and lefty" "..all the federales say, 'we could've had him any day...' " posted by downtown | 11:53 PM i think beck said it best. "mtv makes me wanna smoke crack...." listening: dinosaur jr. "you're living all over me" feeling : fairly silly, which is a relief of sorts. posted by downtown | 11:35 PM Saturday, January 11, 2003 how's this for cliche'? small town southern boy moves to california from nyc and loses cotton pickin' mind. i feel like a character in "annie hall". listening: bonnie "prince" billy "southside of the world" (which is absolutely brilliant btw) posted by downtown | 6:26 AM Friday, January 10, 2003 terms used by at least two different people to describe yours truly today: "characterless and shady" "fucking asshole" "tool" "two headed snake" "blubbering idiot loser" wow. you can check the carnage here. what a life. posted by downtown | 6:55 PM i am so exhausted. i got back from sark on tuesday night after a solid week of insane channel island debauchery, went to work wed morning and put in a good 15 hours today. jet-lag, fatigue, the anniversary of dad's passing and such have just beat the shit out of me. i need to sleep for about a week. my heart is alternately light and careless thanks to an epiphany of sorts in an elvis impersonator karaoke revue i stumbled upon in guernsey monday night and leaden and dark due to my phyisical and psychological state. they say that body informs both the mind and spirit and right now i would heartily concur. plus, i am coming to despise my own country. i spent a week wishing i could be canadian. it's embarrassing to be a yank abroad now. it really is. listening: pavement "range life" feeling: spent posted by downtown | 2:25 AM Thursday, January 09, 2003 my father died two years ago today. it didn't really dawn on me until a few minutes ago. i spent my first day back catching up on work shit and generally concerning myself with other things. then it hit me. today is january 8. fuck. it's been two years already. i'm at a loss. i was living in nyc on january 6 2001 when i got a phone call from my aunt annie bess (my dad's family is from east texas, y'all.). she said, "you need to come. you need to come right now.". i had spoken to my dad on new year's day and, though he didn't sound great, he didn't sound as if he were on death's door either. he told me he was feeling a-ok. i know now that he just didn't want anyone to worry. before i hung up, annie bess told me that my dad wanted to say something to me. he got on the phone and tried to say something that i just completely couldn't discern. then he said it again. then he said it once more and i pretended that i understood. when my aunt got back on the phone, i asked her what he was trying to say. "he says he loves you." , she replied. within a few hours i was on my way to la guardia to catch a plane to san antonio. it was snowing like hell and my flight was delayed so they could de-ice the wings. i ended up missing my connection in st. louis and spending the night in the airport. when i finally arrived the morning of the 7th, my dad was pretty out of it. he knew me, but couldn't really speak. he was medicated to the point of incoherence. i spent most of the next 24 hours with him and with assembled family and he passed away, with most of the family with him, at about 10:30 am on the morning of the 8th. it was the most profound moment in my life until that moment. (little did i know that i would have a similar such experience just 4 months later when my grandfather passed.) 4 days later i eulogized my father at a beautiful little church in the texas hill country. it wasn't something that i wanted to do at first. it was something i felt i had to do. then i wrote the eulogy and i knew it was the right thing to do. i was right. i don't know why i am doing this. perhaps, it's because i still have it here on paper. maybe it's because this was how i remebered him on that day and the way i remember him now. regardless, the eulogy i wrote is as follows: "ladies and gentlemen, family and friends, my father was a sailor, as am i. my father caught the saling bug in his late teens while spending some time in north florida, where i was eventually born. he loved it so much, the act of using ones's wit and skill with that of the wind to get from here to there, that no one could teach him fast enough. so, he taught himself. soon sailing with others on their boats wasn't good enough for him. he had to have his own boat. being a young man with a family, he couldn't afford one. so, he built one himself. these days one can buy a kit and put a nice little sloop together in one's garage in a few weekends. my father bought some plans at for one at a marine supply store and started from scratch. it took two years. but, she was worth the wait. she was the most beautiful little cubby cabin daysailer that you ever did see and she turned heads everywhere we took her. people would stop my dad on the dock and ask what kind of craft she was and who built her my dad would reply, "she's a hundley and i built her." they then would ask, "how much do you want for her?" to which my dad, pointing at me, five years old at the time, would answer, "well, sir, she belongs to my son and i don't think he's sellin'." my faher passed on his passion for sailing to me on the wonderful little boat and it is an obsession that i have never shaken. my sister was too young to sail and the boat frightened my mother. so, the time spent on the boat was for he and i. some of the fondest memories of my entire life are those of sailing with my father on that amazing little boat. soon my father's passion became to make whatever craft we were sailing at the time go faster than anyone else on the water. he got bit by the racing bug and my infection followed shortly thereafter. we quickly became the racingest fools on the gulf coast. which brings me to the story that i most want to tell today. it is the story of a race that seemed as ordinairy as any other at the time, but has grown to have a very significant resonance in the story of my life. it was a race around corpus christi bay with a finish in port aransas. we were sailing the boat of a family friend that was big, slow and ill suited to the task.she was a great boat, but she was a cruiser that wasn't exactly built for speed and we had a crew that seemed much more interested in suntans and cocktails than in winning this particular race. at the beginning of the race we had a good atart and seemed to be at least holding our own. but, at each mark we were losing time. a lot of time. at each turn we were falling further and further behind. our not so interested crew was losing more and more of their interest and motivation every minute. the last leg of the race consisted of one long down wind shot due south across the bay all the way to port a. we were the last boat to turn the last mark. we were quite literally the last boat in the fleet at that time. it wasn't even close. at this point what was left of the crew's get up and go had effectively got up and went. my father, being a stubborn disciple of the "if you can't do it right, don't even bother" school of life insisted that we put all the sail that possibly could at that moment. we raised everything we had, the biggest spinnaker, a staysail, everything. the analogy for all you non sailors here today would be that of spreding five wide receivers out for that last desperate hail mary. as luck would have it, the wind stiffened quite significantly right about then and, because we were at the very rear of the fleet, we caught it before anyone else.that old tub took off like a rocket. we caught the next boat and the next and the next. the wind change had had found the rest of the fleet unprepared and it was fast becoming too late for them to adjust. soon we were moving throught that fleet like a knife through warm butter. and though we did not cross the line first, we did win that race thanks to the enormous handicap afforded that big, slow boat. it was the sailing equivalent of the famous "immaculate reception". at one point that evening my father said to me, "you know son, we're getting pretty good at this." the cup we were awarded that day became one of my father's most prized possessions and the story of that day's events became one of his favorite yarns to tell. one day, should i be fortunate to have a son of my own, i will tell that tale as well. most likely i will tell him that story as i teach him to sail, much as my father taught me." i hope all is swell on the other side, pops. goddamnit if i don't miss you down here. here's to you. posted by downtown | 4:48 AM Wednesday, January 08, 2003 back. posted by downtown | 12:07 PM Sunday, January 05, 2003 it snowed today and there were many, many stars this evening. you never knew there were so many. posted by downtown | 1:19 AM Friday, January 03, 2003 my life is a mess. it really is. it's 4:40 am here local time. i am cold and wet and drunk and pretty "knackered" on really good hash. (more about that in a moment) i am also very, very muddy. i could go on about the horrific state my life has taken on in the past 72 or so hours, and i shall, but not right now. right now i want to give you a feel for what this place is. new year's eve is a good place to start. this a story involving patois fisherman poetry, breda royal lager, copious amounts of hashish, one very jet lagged and inebriated yank with bad hair and something known as "somerset mountain breakfast". first, the details. 10 hours from la to london. flight is late. i miss connection. i buy a ticket on british european for later that evening. (basically wiping me out money-wise for the whole of the trip.) but i'll get to guernsey that night, right? no. after about 4 delays, at about 11pm local time they tell us the flight has been cancelled and they are putting us up at hotel nearby. we'll leave on a special flight at 8 am the next morning. i figure this will get me in to guernsey just in time to catch a cab to the port and make the 10am ferry to sark. the flight leaves at 8:40 am and i make the ferry with (i'm not kidding) maybe 90 seconds to spare after one of the most harrowing cab rides i have ever experienced. (a note to those who one day may find themselves in a guernsey cab. don't challenge the driver to make the impossible happen unless you really dig rollercoasters. he'll do it and you'll think you are in a movie.) anyhoo, i arrive jet lagged as all hell in a major storm. the ferry ride was a hoot. there were some puking folks, but i felt so right at home. i grew up sailing and had seen much worse. i stood on the deck aft of the cabin and took pictures, rediscovering my sea legs and laughing the sort of laugh that makes others conspicuosly nervous. it was great. anyway, to new year's eve. i took a half hour nap and the it was time to hit the pubs (both of 'em, by golly!) we started at the mermaid where i collected my long promised complimentary pint o' guinness. the mermaid was hoppin' as it was, indeed, new year's eve. we had a few pints there and moved on to the more adult oriented bel-air pub for the actual stroke o' 12. the bel-air was packed to the gills. it's a place that can probably easily accommodate 60 people. there were three times that many at least. it was all good fun and, though i had no one to kiss for the fifth year in a row, i enjoyed it immensely. i thought this would be the end of the evening. ha! i was then invited to a rather exclusive (even on sark, kids.) get together at the home of the infamous "dominick". a manifest of other attendees is as follows: absolutely stunning 16-17 year old "sarkie" girls whose accent is so pronounced as to be completely indecipherable: 10 or so. typical "sarkie" blokes who are down with the crown and ja rule simultaneously: 10 or so. absolutely stunning legal-age but more than likely married "sarkie" girls: 6 or so. honest to god smugglers who can trace their smuggling ancestry back at least 400 years: 3 fisherman who smell like fish but can sing along to radiohead and travis songs: 3 or so. what any of the above had to talk about that was linguistically discernable or relevant to anything in the known universe: not fucking much. assorted ex-pats from australia, scotland, france, poland etc.: 8 or so. obligatory dreadlock dudes of differing nationalities: 2 incomprehensible scottish football hooligan brothers one of whom would eventually pass out and wet himself in full view of the rest of the party: 2 lesbian playwright couple producing a play in london's west end in march about a radical girl's imaginary love affair with mao in 1968: 1 horseback riding instructor from wales with electric lights in her very long hair: 1 aussie surfers who came to the island 2 years ago and never left: 1 absolutely nutty particle physicist from cambridge who looks like a "lord of the rings" character and who, amazingly enough, couldn't stop talking about the new film and who personally welcomed me to the island a minimum of a dozen times: 1 sons of english banking magnate billionaires who have the best hash of all: 1 poets published in the current editions of Granta, The Atlantic and Mcsweeney's: 1 pulitzer prize winning sark native rueters combat photographer 3 days out of afghanistan: 1 sark native, fellini-esque (the man could have come straight from the "la strada" set) fisherman, self proclaimed "stud of the island" and, from what i have heard, this not an idle boast, picker of many very special "mushrooms" and reciter of extemporaneous poetry about the sea, the island and the wonders of his own cock, in traditional sark french/english patois: 1 very drunk, jet lagged and enchanted yank with only the roughest idea of where on the island he was at 6 am (i knew i was north of where i needed to go, but i had no torch and even fewer functioning brain cells.) and who was quite literally out of his cotton pickin' mind: 1 whew. it was quite an assortment of amazing weirdos. so, anyway, i arrived at dom's house not really knowing what to expect, expecting nothing really. i was blown away. this was one of the most eclectic crowds i had ever mingled amongst. at first i was amazed by the amount of alchohol that was present. sarkies freakin' DRINK and they make no bones about it. after some interrogation, it was revealed to the crowd at large that i had yet to spend my first night on sark and the fact that i was spending my first night, new year's or not, at a "dom" party made me somewhat of a "legend". this was said to me with all sincerity and requisite awe by more than one person. i was then struck by the number of people rolling their own smokes. everyone is laying out two rizla's and breaking up cigarrettes to put in them which i found quite odd. then i notice that they all have these little chunks of clay that they are burning and breaking up to put in their creations. it took a bit for me to realize that they were spreading hash amongst the silk cut and dunhill tobacco. cool, i thought. then they just kept rolling them. at any given time, there were 8 or 9 of these beasts flowing around the room downstairs where i spent most of my time. there were an equal number upstairs. it was nuts. the youngest guest was probably 15 and the oldest was probably 60, yet when the stereo upstairs was finally put in to action, the first thing played (and played over and over again) was the new david gray cd. everyone knew the words and sang along. everyone. it was surreal and it in some ways validated my own flirtation with david gray a few weeks back (meet me on the other side...). it was crazy. as the party started to thin at about 4 or so, we realized that the hooch was almost gone. just as the panic was about to reach an untenable state, the crazy phyisicist from cambridge arrived. he had in tow a 4 liter jug of homemade apple cider from back home that he lovingly referred to as "somerset mountain breakfast". this stuff was amazing, it looked terrible, smelled worse, but tasted wonderful and was obsecenely potent. we drank this stuff for hours. at about 6:30 or so, i realized that i needed to get home. it was pissing rain at the time and i had no torch. i also had only a cursory knowledge of where i was. there are no cars here, therefore there are no streetlights. there are real no lights of any kind as the natives are fanatical about conservation. they recycle everything and collect rainwater to wash the dishes. anyhoo, i, in an disgustingly innebriated and physically and emotionally drained state, decided to make a go of it and hit the road. i got loads of advice as to the route to take and such and i really tried to absorb it all. i knew i needed to head south, but when it's raining in sark in the cottony-blacky-black dark you quite literally can't see a hand in front of your face. kieran showed me to the road and gave me the smallest torch on the island. it wasn't much more than what some people have to illuminate where the key goes in the ignition of their vehicle. i went anyway. it was dark and windy as all get out. i walked in to more than one hedgerow and stomped through more than one muddy-ass puddle. i walked along the road with a hand on the hedge just to keep some orientation. i got pretty close to where i needed to be, but took the wrong turn at the wrong crossroads and ended up past the signeurie and, from what i am told, about 20 meters from my certain death. i came about 10 seconds or so from walking right off a particularly vicious cliff. given the back home events of the past couple of days, this wouldn't be the worst of all possible outcomes. regardless, i didn't make the plunge and i doubled back to the appropriate cross roads and stumbled far enough to reach the house. i am glad that i entered the right house as no one locks doors here and i could have very easily pulled a robert downey junior. anyway i got home about a quarter past 7. i then realized that it was not yet 12 in california and decided to call the ex. i did so with my recently purchased (at heathrow) calling card. my calling card sucked and cut me off like three times. so, then i went to bed and thus began another day in sark. new year's day is another story, almost as kooky, and one for which you will have to wait. it's 7 am here and i need to hit the hay. cheers. posted by downtown | 8:56 AM Thursday, January 02, 2003 i've finally got the comments thing figured out. mick was using a pop-up blocker. there is a long post forthcoming. posted by downtown | 10:35 PM "come away, human child to the water and the wild with a faerie hand in hand for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand." -wby posted by downtown | 6:41 PM Wednesday, January 01, 2003 p.s. i can't read comments at all. windows xp says there is an error on my page. thank you, bill. :( posted by downtown | 2:27 AM i'm here finally. the trip was somewhat hellish, but i am here. i am here and drunk. the story of last night is long and will tickle some funny bones, caused more than one head to be scratched and will inflame at least one heart to crazy, vicious envy. it's a hell of a tale and i intend to tell it soon. i just need about 16 hours sleep now. i hope all had a splendiferous new year. cheers. posted by downtown | 2:18 AM |
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Cost of the War in Iraq
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