I haven't got much, so far. I was a little behind getting up today. The drive wasn't to blame. It was Phil and Joseph. But that's alright. I'll get the apartment cleaned and everything tomorrow, and make sure to have a talk with Joseph about doing his part. Not everyone likes to live in a hovel. Especially not those people with real jobs, treating a hovel like a residence. Eh...
- Later -
It's quite cold. I'm just trying to stuff as many calories and carbohydrates into my intestines as possible. I'm not sure if I want to go to sleep or die. My hands aren't working very well. It's quite chilly. Not used to this yet. For some reason...
For some reason it feels like a holiday. Comfort food, cool temperatures, and rain equal holiday feelings, I guess. But not Christmas. More like Halloween or Christmas Eve. Something half-formed - quasimodo, if you will. I need to go grocery shopping. I hate the Eagles and everything they stand for. I will take your peaceful, easy feeling and shit all over it. You are not allowed to feel peaceful or easy. Fuck you Don Henley. Fuck you long-haired, silky-voiced bass player. Fuck you other guitar player. Joe Walsh should have known better. Joe Walsh is a bad ass. Fuck Eric Clapton.
- Even Later -
So I'm a thief. So what. The new Metallica record kicks ass all over the place. Death Magnetic may not be the best, most distinguished title ever, but the thing stands up. There are more ridiculous names for metal albums. They cannot stand up to the quality of content on this one, however. Goddamn. Kirk Hammett is loose. Dave Grohl was right. The man is cleaning house. And if all that wasn't enough, you can hear the bass. Wonder of wonders.
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