shirtless ~OR~ get rid of the chickens

i have a nice, cold can of mountain dew at my side and a defecation stirring in my loins. (is that disgusting? i'm sorry.) i could ride this train of habits indefinitely.

the newest musical fascination: spider bags. a perfect amalgam of kuntry and trail-of-dead-style raucousness. and sad-bastard drunken moaning. hyphenated emotions in a neat package.

plugged in the old imac this weekend, which brought to light many fond memories. countless dan bern songs, weird writing fragments, etc. there was a very amusing xmas letter from the center, maybe xmas '03. i'll see if i can get it posted here at some point. it has updates on each of our situations; it reads strangely seriously. which may have been the joke.

i feel like i can now shake the hand of anyone with a straight face and a calm stomach. the unintended benefits of a neat life. (fuck emotional discomfort. i can shrug it off like a wal-mart hoodie.)

what movie am i supposed to get excited about? "the crazies"? i get all weak in the knees when i think about "the darjeeling limited" even in passing, but i can't say the same for anything more late-model. WHAT THE FUCK. i ain't okay with becoming one of those assholes stuck in their early-twenties or whatever, refusing to get emotionally invested in any new media. so i should abort this paragraph and swallow back my fears.

maybe i need some black leather pants.