Step One: Convince self 'all green things imbibed are medicinal'

Yesterday; Got shtfacd. On an empty stomach.
Let us pause and think on how detrimental this is to any sort of day planning.

. . .

Continue - Ate insane amounts of Reese's and smoked like a chimney. Haunted old haunts. Sat in various parks, gardens and piers throughout the day, sketching. Felt more like me than I have in I-can't-measure-how-long. Not "good me" but "grumpy me", yet still "Me". Conversing/Bickering with complete strangers is not the worse remedy for hyper tension. Was actually fun. More importantly no one was harmed :D

My one regret... well, I wouldn't have watched the latest episode of "Dexter" before going to see "30 Days of Night". Then, I wouldn't have chanted, loudly "The DARK DEFENDER!!! TO THE RESCUUUUUE!!" throughout the entire climatic fight scene.
In my defense. . . . . . you would have chanted too.


Other than that, self indulgent blissed out of my fucking skull, thnkyouverymuch. XD



Today; Feeling a bit like a chipped ceramic ashtray, full up with filth but still somehow smelling of sweet rum. Not the worse feeling ever, not the best. Still functional though. Still pretty. None worse for the wear, it adds character anyhow-- god, I was actually talking about an ashtray just then. I lost myself in the analogy! Step Two: Drink/Smoke more, think less.

Now to be bold and review sketchbook. See if anything is worth keeping ^^;

Celebrating it being cold enough to see my breath, finally.

First, I'm going to take a nasty bite out of this fucker.

Then, I'm going to stretch my last $20 like a fucking yoga master.
Lastly, meander through town till sunset and procure the only other detrimental thing I indulge when I'm in this self-destructive-indulgent a mood.

If only this had happened a week sooner. Yes, I know thats mean to say... but I've said meaner.

Is there nothing we can do?

I watched and wailed as my club was turned into a condo with an ajoining Sushi Bar.
...as my dive bars turned into yuppie student pick up joints...
...my local community center turned into a mini-mall...
...St. Marks turn into Camden...
...and now CBGB's turning into fucking fluff...



There is nothing right in my world when I have to commute 2^1/2 hours out of my way for a decent show.
What could be more depressing in the universe than sobering up on the train ride back from Brooklyn?!
I take that back, there's always Jersey. *shudders*

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"Earth to Asshole: the struggling artistes who made the Village what it is today never shopped at stores like yours or Marc Jacobs'."