{incidentally, this site looks like chutney in netscape. I was just reminded, by myself.}

periodical update from the periodical desk at Georgia State's William Russell Pullen Library:

happy holidays! here's the rundown:

mardi gras, or "fat tuesday," february 12th: classic tuesday night upn-wb tagteam: buffy and soup. buffy has willow's hair from last season, freakiness ensues with a vengeance demon. filler episode. soup loses his powers to guy that looks like chad lowe. then gets them back. with great power comes great responsibility.

mercredi cendre, or "ash wednesday," february 13th: give up books, or the buying of them, for lent. last weekend at the goodwill book fair I hit rock bottom. more books than I'll ever read, except for some I've already read, for 20 dollars. a partial list:

*joseph heller, good as gold, something happened and no laughing matter
*chaim potok, my name is asher lev and davita's harp
*annie dillard's autobiography
*autobiography of a yogi which is, regretably, not about the bear
*william wharton, dad
*second and third books of the lord of the rings trilogy (I know, total bandwagon)
*something by ursula leguin
*some choose your own adventures
*a nineteen fifties book about space, a genre which is a personal favorite of mine

then on monday, at the thrift store:

*to kill a mockingbird, gregory peck on the cover
*more choose your own adventures
*lots more I don't remember.
*I don't remember

but it was a lot. and then yesterday, cheating, for the last time I swear, bought waiting for godot at half price from the bookstore. no more. serious. I have a problem. serious.

st. valentine's day, or "hallmark thursday": I make a frilly valentine from closeout tables at k-mart and michaels, and a photobooth picture of me and the girl, all cheesy for a cheesy holiday. cards in the shoebox count: 2. spongebob from millie, NWO from david. I give out precious moments. girl gives me spices for a spicy evening, all purchased at whole foods also known as heaven on earth.

part two: dinner for two at quite possibly my favorite restaurant, which is called "soul," also known as "shalom showdy."

part three: getting a "heart on" at tattletales adult emporium. I swear that's what the sign said. but we didn't really do it. sorry. happy friday.

I just got fired from rockstardom. Mr. Lomax said he just wasn't seeing any hits. I don't blame him. He did make a half-hearted promise regarding the re-release of some of the older material, along with possibly some new tracks, as something of a swan song, tentatively titled demonade. Of course, all the while keeping in mind that "farewell tour" more often than not means, "chart-topping comeback tour!" Right, elton? it's all about ceremony.
also, rockstars are stupid. latest show I went to was now it's overhead/desaparecidos, the first of which was great and like the album (with orenda and maria in fine shape, natch), the second of which was cringe-inducing, early emo-sounding, punkrock attitude-having, fabricated stage-bantering noise, and we all agreed that we liked conor oberst(comm. venus, bright eyes) better when he was too nervous to talk and too young to drink. I went home with head aching and eyes stinging.
parenthetical: this is the reason for my new glasses. smoky environment. what can I say, I love smokers. I live and play with smokers. deep down inside I am a smoker, I suppose. Hence, contacts don't work out so well. the glasses I got were cheap and plastic and of the nada surf variety. very alternative.
a pithy illustration of my current situation as a musician: I woke up in the middle of the night with a melody and lyric in my head, and the thought occurred to me to find a tape recorder and sit in a closet for a few minutes, but draped across my chest was the clutching-sleeping arm of the girl I love, and heavy on my shoulder was the softly breathing head of the same girl, and it made me exceedingly happy- I smiled and drifted off again, to awake in the morning with no more melody, no more lyric in my head. c'est la...