SIZZ CHIZZ BIZZ

6:37 am

Hyurgh:

I hadn't realized a few things:

• It's 6:37 am, and my location is coming into range of the death star. The, uh, star. That sun thing. Mr. Sun. I've overwaked again, it seems.
• I did not appreciate exactly to what extent
  I didn't realize how much mainstream acceptance this d00d gets now. Time was, only Scott said much about him. I remember when I first saw the link Scott put up. "It helps if you know about Heino", it said. So I went out to find out what Heino was. It is Heinz Georg Kramm, which doesn't seem to have a lot to do with the site. Maybe thats the wrong Heino. Maybe it means something in a different language.
• My answering machine is broken and does not release the line. It rendered my phone line busy all day. Everyone that tried to call thought I was on the modem.
• Miniature Moai statues embody helpless mortification when draped with underpants.
• Ed was mugged yesterday, and his cell phone taken. We both have purchased high-powered handguns.
• Not. What are we gonna do? Walk around shooting people? Sheesh.
• When the "Meals from Heaven" van is parked nearby, it means an increase in bum-urine levels around your house.

There's something about the pawn shops in this neighborhood. They have the highest prices of any pawn shops I've seen. Brian got his XP-10 for $499, new. Used Roland XP-10 at typical area pawn shop is $599. I thought they were supposed to sell them at drastically reduced prices because a) they were stolen, or b) the owner doesn't know what the thing is worth, or c) the thing is used, unwarranted, and dirty.

Ed has pasted a big Bosch up in the living room. There's no furniture in there, nor anything to do, so only the neighbors look at it. To facilitate this, the living room blinds and the balcony door are left open. This also serves the purpose of ventilating the living room quite well. Ahh. Air. All over the place. (The door. The blinds don't really do much, up or down.)

It's 7 am now, and I'm not going to be asleep for at least half an hour. It should be interesting, going back to work on monday. There is a verb for what I did to my sleep schedule this weekend. "FuX0red". Still, I've come to know that the state of mind that I am in during this time of day is good for music sequencing. When I start telling myself, "Okay, right after I finish this, I'm going ta bed", I do my best work. Usually for several hours. I'll be staying up late this month, to see what happens.

I put a CD in the CD player about 4 hours ago, I just haven't gotten around to hitting "play" yet.

It's not worth it to sell yourself out to get someone to like you. I don't care how incredibly sexy or powerful they are. They aren't a big enough deal to be worth two human egos. This c00l opinion is protected by constitutional armor and unrequited smugness.

Is it worth it to sell yourself out to get a whole bunch of people to like you? Hmm. Maybe. If you don't need to manufacture different personality traits for all of them. They had better be some really great people, too. And lots of them. I can't imagine when that would ever occur.

"Martha Stewart Living" magazine recently included a recipe for egg-salad sandwiches. "What kind of idiot needs a recipe for egg salad sandwiches?", Tara wondered. Well, I know what kind of idiot. The kind that eats food from 7-11 for 8 months, and then moves to Seattle. I'd be eating egg salad every day if I had it memorized. Unh. Wall. Exaggeration.

The cap of this 2 liter Mtn. Dew says "To" on the inside. To who? When? What? I will travel to the ends of the earth to di

"Play POP CULTURE, over two million prizes! Match the phrases on POP CULTURE gameboards!" Well, that explains why there is a giant cardboard cutout of Xena in Westlake that says "Don't Go There". I wonder what attitude-loaded phrase this poor little "to" is from. Maybe "Go To Hell"? Not current enough. "To be, or not to be". No, too many duplicates. Wouldn't work well in the game. "To heeeewack crazy, man!" Yeah, homonyms count, sure. "To Hundred Document Okay", there that's way current.

7:30, I'm going to try to sleep. To sleep is to escape nauseating fish-oil mouth all day; to dream is to meet disaster fish.

Writing literally is way too tough right now. I feel like I'm turning into zippy the pinhead.