oh, the old nine to five. the grind. the stone that does the grinding. my nose against it. cassettes records will be the death of me. today I programmed the entire groovebox track of a little nod-to-the-brill-building number called "gorgeous." you've probly heard it. I think fista is the only one who's heard it with the little piece of the shirelles' "will you love me tomorrow?" tacked onto the end. look for multitracked vocals(complete with "sha la la la's"), poorly strummed acoustical guitar and some tweeting electronical birds. in a living room near you. if mr. lomax has his way, I'll be laying down the vox tomorrow. as for tonite, there's the small matter of a guided by voices/creeper lagoon show at the variety. everyone else is going, so why not the cassettes? researching the rock. I promise you some product. words?

your makeup is smeared across your face. your hair has been tousled all over the place, and I could have sworn that you were gorgeous, but you're just not. you're just hot. you're just not. you're just not. you're just not g-g-gorgeous... no I'm not here against my will- only against my better judgement. I've got no innocence to kill, and I'm not putting up a fight. nor am I putting up my hands. but I have not given up my rights by giving in to your demands. and I wash my hands of this. I clear my head of all these thoughts. I made this bed- it's mine to sleep in. I should be sleeping, but I'm not. I cannot push you off my mind. I should have pushed you off myself, but I just could not seem to find the strength, the will, the force. I could have sworn that you were gorgeous but you're just not. you're just not. you're just not g-g-g-go ahead- do what you want to. what part of maybe don't you understand? give me some semblance of emotion to latch onto. no I don't love you- I'm just your lover on demand, and I wash my hands of this. I clear my head of all these thoughts. I made this bed, but it's not for sleeping. I don't mean to cheapen what we've got. but see, it's all I've got. (shirelles part) tonight with words unspoken, you'll say that I'm the only one. but will my heart be broken when the night meets the morning sun? I'd like to know that your love is a love I can be sure of. so tell me now, and I won't ask again: will you still love me tomorrow?

bring out the roll. jc.