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tuesday, february 4

So here I am again. Hello.

Things are their usual loopy selves around here. After my first internship went up in smoke, a new magazine is seemingly rising from the ashes and once they "get something for me to sit on" I'll be going in to work at the new mag (horrendously titled BigShot) in Brooklyn. "Apparently, the rest of our furniture will be here by the end of this week," my editor assures me, who has lately developed a penchant for ending all his sentences with exclamation points! presumably because he still at least has the illusion of a job. So, goody, woohoo etc.

I've also began a campaign for my own AM radio show on WNYU. Yes you heard me. My unsteady drone may soon grace the airwaves of the five boroughs, although not if Fate has anything to do with it of course. I attended a recruitment meeting last Thursday (after almost forgetting about it, then remembering 10 minutes before it started, racing down the street, almost running into a flaming trashcan on the way) which I assumed would mainly be signing up to alphabetize records or whatever. Turns out there's a pretty fair opportunity to get your own hour slot to do basically whatever the hell you want, provided it's Indie and Cool and Uncommercial. So I thought Hmm. I'm sad. I'm desperate. I listen to some fucking strange music. Why don't I give it a go.

So I drafted up my proposal and dropped it off at the studio yesterday. My suggested program is called "Mind The Gap" and it's a showcase of British and Irish bands ranging from completely unknown everywhere to completely unknown in the US and including the obligatory indie/trad rock and Britpop as well as some emo, noiserock, C-86, punk, acid house and alternative electronica inclusions. What with the recent resurgance in new UK guitar bands, I should have quite an interesting time. Though I'm doubtful the music elitists at the station will dub my proposal "edgy" or "non-traditional" enough (the majority of their programming seems to be various obscure subgenres of unlistenable techno) I feel I could do a fair job of getting out a lot of quality bands out into the American airwaves.

Case in point: Vex Red, sort of the Linkin Park of the Midlands but much, much cooler and with a delicious gothy electronic edge that makes you want to have sex while listening to Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" or something. "Cause And Solution" is a marvelous instrumental example which I suggest everyone (yes, all 5 people who read this sad blog) download at the soonest possible opportunity. I am determined to get these guys heard. Also high up on my playlist are Irish Therapy?-wannabes Wilt, who despite the occasional turn for the cheesier manage to sound quite sincere and have a knack for that perfect slice of guitar chordage; Cooper Temple Clause, whose "Devil Walks In The Sand" could be Led Zeppelin reunited in 2003 and fed a monster dose of meth-laced LSD; and Hundred Reasons, because, you know, emo rawks (or something).

So everyone, cross your fingers! Yours truly may soon be coming to a radio dial near you! (Yeah right.)

In other news I am [coughsputter] back in "therapy" though I'm taking bets on how many weeks it'll take before this goes to hell along with all my other previous attempts. It's been my modus operandi (can I use that term in this context? you know I don't really give a fuck) to just sit on my hands and grin and bear it, because the bureaucratic machine is more traumatizing to deal with when you're in a depressed state than anything else. But truly folks, I am fucked up, and despite the fact that I've done everything right and still nothing has gone my way, there's no reason to keep thinking that one day all this will pay off. I am still waiting for that one night of uninterrupted sleep and a day without blurred vision, shaking hands and the sinking feeling that everything is slowly going to hell around you, drowning in a simmering pool of insanity. Nothing really makes sense to me anymore, I'm lost in this fog and reaching through with fingertips to just brush the outside world, never grasping or touching it. I really am losing my mind. And it's OK I guess I mean it's cool and poetic and whatever, but fuck me if I screw up my life because of it.

So yeah. Be nice to me everyone. A pat on the head will do me just fine. [3:09 PM]

thursday, january 23

Hi everyone. Sorry I haven't been around. You wouldn't have wanted to hear what I had to say anyway.

Things are their normal insane selves. I started my internship. That was fun. Then I showed up at the office today and found out that Mixer had apparently evaporated into thin air. Everything had been cleaned out. I babbled something to the unfamiliar woman who met me at the door like "But...but I just worked here last Thursday." She informed me that as of last Friday, the magazine was closed. No email, no phone call, nothing.

So, yeah. Three months of work down the drain. But everyone who knows me and the way my life goes won't be too surprised.

I still had Insound hanging on with that other position I applied for way the fuck back in November so thank god I didn't turn them down yet. I go in tomorrow to talk to them. I'm going to keep touching things to make sure they aren't going to evaporate.

In other news, I've been sick since Saturday, I can't find a paying job, and I have no idea when I'll see Luke again. I am detoxing from all the drugs I did over break. I am trying really hard to care about the smoking rubble that is my life. I really have a hard time writing in this thing nowadays because I just never have anything positive to say. Nothing good has happened in my life for a very long time. I'm not being self-pitying, I'm just saying bad news isn't good reading material. I'm doing you all a favor.

I'll try to update now and then if I'm ever bored or high or both. I don't think I had all that much to say to begin with. [6:12 PM]

sunday, january 5

Being stoned is like this. It's like every nerve is radiating pleasure, warmth, comfort from the center of your being outwards into the world til everything glows and wavers like a mirage in the desert. Everything is soft, everything is gentle. It's like swimming, only without the effort. It's feeling outrageously good in a way you can't explain unless you've experienced it. I've been stoned for two days straight now, and when I'm like this I feel no pain. The anguish and suffering and mental shit I've been mired in for the past week is reduced to a background drone, a volume dial turned down to its lowest setting. And let me tell you, I am suffering in my life. I am suffering the pain of someone who is trying to keep the one person they love from leaving this world. But I don't want to talk about it now. Because I'm high, and it feels good. "Better than sex," Sick Boy said in Trainspotting. Well no. But in the absence of, I'm certainly not complaining. [10:19 PM]

tuesday, december 24

Fucking wrapping paper. [8:38 PM]

Yes, I have not been around here lately; color me a lazy lump of flab. There hasn't really been much news worth reporting; Thursday: arrived home with RJ in tow, put up the Christmas tree (ALL by myself while my dad, pins in arm, gave useless directions), hid RJ from my cat, got really stoned. Friday: slept til noon, read a tattered sci-fi/pulp slash pseudosexy whatever novel that was lying around my room, got really stoned. Saturday: ventured into Philly for last-minute Christmas shopping, visited Condom Kingdom and bought things I shall not mention here, didn't get stoned for a change, and shaved my legs. Sunday: helped my half-blind aunt haul her twenty ton suitcase up three flights of stairs, decorated Christmas tree, removed partially-chewed strands of tinsel from cat's esophagus. And got really stoned.

I think that about covers it. Now if you'll excuse me, Luke is on the phone in a total panic because his mom is making him bake Christmas cookies and he doesn't know what to do. [1:23 AM]

friday, december 20

Sorry for the lack of updates around here recently; I've been busy getting stoned out of my mind, hauling Christmas trees through the front door, flirting with Luke 24/7 and oh yeah getting stoned out of my mind. Bless the intrepid pharmacologist who first synthesized hydrocodone. [10:23 PM]

thursday, december 19

Alrighty folks, Rusty James is all bottled up and ready to go and so am I. Wish me (and him) luck on the perilous holiday-season train journey home. Adios. [9:04 AM]

wednesday, december 18

I am currently in a semi-euphoric sort of state as I have finished my Psych final in an inordinately short period of time - I think it took me about a half hour to blaze through 70 multiple choice questions (yes, I like using the verb "blaze" in sentences) - I have since filled my belly with food, and am about to score some delicious weed. Yes, Ye Olde Village Highschooler Dealer has finally come through and decided to make up for his earlier transgression in the form of quality marijuana. A bit belated, but the effort's nonetheless appreciated. Luke also got in touch briefly and was so excited and happy because he bought me a Christmas present. His enthusiasm over this minor but exquisitely sweet gesture makes me feel all melty and warm inside.

I don't know why I'm being like the human thesaurus tonight but oh well I'm manic so deal with it. [6:37 PM]

Holy shit! Jane's Addiction is coming out with a new album and a world tour!

I gotta call Luke... [1:28 PM]

I am in the process of reading up for my final final (haha) in Abnormal Psych. I took one of the practice tests they provided on that ever-useful CD that came along with my way-too-expensive textbook, on the Personality Disorders chapter. I of course, having never looked at the chapter before, scored 100%. I find it somewhat troubling that I can score 100% on a test about personality disorders without reading the book, but I guess that just makes me special or something.

Divya is finished with her exams. Let me see if I can telepathically convince her to GO HOME now. [12:48 PM]

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