27 October 2004

Hamate Processed Pagodas

You're awake and trying not to be
Wrapped around your pillow like a prawn
And the nighttime's wrapped around you
Will be until it drops you on the dawn
From the C train to the shiny tower
Kicked around til happy hour found you
Where you can drink that smirk right off your face

Finally my CDs arrived. Actually they came Monday, exactly 6 weeks after I took them to the Post Office. Thus I spent the last two days literally hunched over them listening feverishly. Of course the first disc out of the case was Astral Weeks because it doesn't get better than that, lemme tell ya. It was orgasmic, in fact, if I had a girlfriend right now, I would totally kick her to the curb. That's right, this shite is the dog's bollocks. I was off my tits for 48 hours because of this bloody pile of plastic, but then I had to attend class and visit my cow and fuzzy sheeo friends at the farm.
Alas, I feel I am justified in short-changing you in terms of my prosaic prescence because who really has taken the time to be present, seriously now. So I am off to buy liquor and sweets for the bday bash on Saturday. Rum soaked jelly babies are the sweet du jour, should be fuckin great lest that damn JAPpy midden got involved in the planning. Bollocks to her. Stuart Murdoch frequents my Safeway, too, thats swank if you didn't know.

OH.. don't go just yet.

CONGRATULATIONS IP, you and you alone have made it to like the bazillionth hit on my little thingy-ma-doo-thingy here. So go get yourself some cheesy popcorn.

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