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18 september 2000
fuck fame, i don't need I sat in the Dume Room after work and stretched two martinis into the creation of 75% of the lyrics to "Shake," hastily scribbled on three cocktail napkins with a borrowed ball-point. I'd always wanted to write a song on a bar napkin... Got some pizza next door, and then headed to the video store. It was my second time in there, my first being a few months ago, when I set up my account. I had never before seen the clerk who asked me "So, how was the show on Saturday?" My jaw must have hit the floor, but I played it cool. "Pretty good, thanks." "Yeah man, I've been meaning to catch you guys. When ya playin next?" So I told him, and he marked it on the wall calendar behind the counter. Complete strangers are coming up to me like they know me. Is this fame? Fucking magazine cover. My prized anonymity is down the toilet, and I've yet to have sex this millennium. Other than that, life ain't all that bad. 18 september 1999: : on a long hiatus 18 september 1998: : on a brief hiatus 18 september 1997: soul food for sore gums : I bring this up because his head was still in my crotch when he jumped. [ swim back | email me | swim ahead ] |
