it’s all falling into place. soon, i may have myself an honest-to-god esperanto pen pal. then i’ll be as cool as axel belifante. NOTE: my middle name was this close (fingers very very close) to being axel (my grampy’s middle name) until my parents wussed out (in two ways) and went with “pierre” (although that’s a funny story in and of itself).

yesterday me and little andrew baked cakes all day from the recipe included in the last interview with a frankenstein. today, more cakes.

more relating to last night- if you see a skinny kid wearing a pink t-shirt with red hearts on it and you call him a fag, no one cares and rightly so, because fag’s not an insult anymore. and purely on the cyrano debergerac tip- is that the best you can do?

so i ended up going to the show and it was fun. there were wires opened up
with some good HC, then some other band played really bad. arab on radar
was awesome- they sounded like an eerie monster movie, and they were all
dressed in black and underlit. and the singer sounds like a little
girl. and lots of people didn’t like them. then piebald played and it was
super fun singing along and stuff. i love piebald shows becasue the
audience drowns out the lead singer constantly. also, the audience sang
along to the guitar lines too. awesome. they didn’t play the noreaster
song, though, so i was a little bummed. then the locust came on and all
the piebald kids cleared out. i guess it never really dawned on me that
the whole locust thing is about being assholes. seeing them again just
made me dislike them. i just can’t have fun at a show when the band is
constantly berating the audience and the previous bands. one part i did
enjoy was when the drummer threw up. oh yeah, the sound sucked for the
whole show.

girl problems #3 is out so send a stamp to matt smith 950 main st box 1881 worcester ma 01610. he wrote an article on trash picking and mentioned me putting dumpstered whiskey in my dumpstered spaghetti. it should be noted that matt is sXe and he did not diss me for doing this. fave line: “musically it sounds like filler-era minor threat (but then again, what good band doesn’t?).”.

the beauty of working at a community college is that when it gets way hot (as it is now), rumours start circulating that the govenor is going to call and order us closed. i can’t remember if this has actually happened ever. in other news, i just accidentally ordered 80 bucks worth of cds from forced exposure. i need to stop eating out entirely. i mean, entirely, i need to stop. american graffitti is at the bijou. i might bail on the locust / piebald / arab on radar show. i know if i go i’ll be disappointed, after that awesome show in fitchburg. incidentally, i’m really happy that nicks curtin and reville got along so well. it makes me very happy when what i percieve as two separate groups of friends intersect. at the same time, i know in my heart that my friends fall into two warring factions, which, like the confederacy and the union, pay no mind of family lines. simply, there are those who will watch ghostbusters II with me, and those who will not.

oh yeah, the locust, piebald, and arab on radar are playing the getlaidium this wednesday. in all honesty, the big question i’m asking myself is: what am i going to wear?

i’m trying to revamp this front page- to make the whole page more dynamic, vital, and alive. i’m super busy- today i have to make dinner for 8 people out of no food. for the rest of this week i have: cake, pirate ship, t-shirts, basement, ultimate frisbee (a promise which i may just back-burn some more), back orders, and still i have to make new cover art! bah! matt carroll claims to have video of the gandiva incident. or, in headline-ese: mondo gondo blotto punko punchout pics -or- pants-edge revenger flies off Handle -or- bare facts emerge in warehouse wing-ding, drummer says.

i’m back at work so resume reading daily updates if such is your want. i found that without the daily regimen of writing down funny things as they happen, i am unable to remember just what happened. here is a basic smattering of events:

vinalhaven maine was fun: maxin’, relaxin’ and coolin’. amongst other things, we had two (2) viking funerals, both of which consisted of taping fireworks to a box and putting box in the water. the first one was to honor some mussels we picked from the sea and ate (and what’s worse, didn’t eat). the second funeral was for all the fireworks we used on the first funeral. due to the fact that we lacked (and will continue to lack) the resources for infinite funerals, the fireworks from the second funeral went unheralded, and are (probably) doomed to haunt the (now) Haunted Cove from which they were launched. we also had a casino night, and all (9 people) slept in a giant bed we made out of ALL AVAILABLE BEDS PUT TOGETHER.

lots of late night bike riding. 2 games of kickball. 2 occasions for straw-beer-y floats. late night bull sessions (once with chris bull).

2 days ago i stayed awake for 43 hours. how? i went on a big bike ride one night, ran into some kids (just like that movie: ran) and we ate at a diner. went to an apartment, stayed up until 5 am TALKING ABOUT LEMONADE WITH YONNI (yonni likes lemonade more than anything else. he even likes the da lat salty lemonade. also, he despises oranges.). drove coolbreeze and lniemi to providence, went to a barbeque show, then a party, then kickball. finally crashed in coolbreeze’s closet apartment (he lives in a closet on a porch, barely big enough for a mattress). i awoke next morning to a little girl tap dancing on the porch two flights below, my preferred way of being woken up.

barbeque show (as mentioned) at kill whitey’s (the wayward boys‘ basement). show space had pipes starting at my neck and ceiling starting at my eyebrows. lots of fun kids, loud crazy bands (terribles, atrocious kids, handles, impulse, bad personalities), fireworks, grilled items (BYO tofu dogs), silly costumes (skesslar of bpersonalites singing in a poorly-aligned silver thong), 360 beers (bankrolled, as was the grill, by some crazy and wealthy benefactor), great sets by said bands, people singing along and dancing: good times. emily bloodmilk, with whom i’ve been corresponding, was there, and she gave me a present wrapped in colorful paper. the present had a letter in it, but i couldn’t read the letter because she was standing right there next to me, and because i had this unread letter from her in my pocket i had a hard time talking to her. not like letter was a mash note (nor was mash-notery expected in the least)- it was exactly the letter one sends with a zine trade you’re pleased with. hmmph. not like i need excuses to be awkward meeting people. incidentally the zine is really good and with the zine and the letter i have two instances of emily using the interjection “blargh.”. wait, i had another emily bloodmilk note. i shall refer to zine, which is in my asspocket (as it (zine) is asspocket-sized). -pause in a minor- ok, i remember, plus one more thing on-topic:

1.) emily- you make remark of being at the only fort worcester show i didn’t go to. now, i really doubt it, but i need to confirm that you are not the girl who punched andy gandiva in the face just because he was naked. readers- know that i intend to also send a letter.
2.) “i kissed him one night after we talked about william shatner. it was perfectly romantic […]”. perfectly romantic?

hanging out with little andrew and the curtin brothers. eating garlic pickles from tom’s delicatessen (your pickle shop), and bird’s nest juice from the ha tien 3 (your weirdo asian juice shop). watching buckaroo bonzai. my personal tally- points added for recognizing the bird’s nest juice font as the chicago lookalike used in mac os system 9. points removed for not finishing bird’s nest juice. net gain/loss: points.

diary haus with lisa lisa and steve fischer of men’s souls. it was warm, it was evening, it had just thunderstormed and it was raining slightly. we were the only ones there. it was like heaven. this isn’t political or shock rock celebrity killer worship*, but i had a big cup of mint chocolate chip ice cream, with hot fudge and whipped cream, which was timothy mcveigh’s last meal. this may go down in history as best last meal ever.

* some ambiguouity here, but i decided that people who
kill celebrities, people who are celebrities due to killing, and celebrities who kill needn’t be distinguished (as separate categories). also, i feel the need to state at this point that gnr spaghetti incident sucked.

yesterday was easy come easy go day. returned some bottles, took that money, made stickers, handed them out (many more left so ask me when you see me). bought records from the little store, collected money for sold records at wormtown traders (the neohippy drug-rug store), immediately bought strawberry soy ice cream for straw-beer-y floats. the floats had to be delayed, as little andrew and cool breeze (and many others except me) had plans to go to club hell in providence for 80’s dancing night. little andrew thought i’d be upset by this clash of plans, but i could care less. easy come easy go!

nick is earning his keep, although i have yet to figure out an executive title for him. suggestions are welcome in the guestbook.

i played capture the flag in fitchburg on saturday in a gravel pit / sand dune area behind a haunted drive-in. little andrew dove off a three story cliff to save s.kesslar from jail. he ran so hard he threw up later. sunday i played some kickball and caught one in the face. seems bad, but hey, i caught it.

i’m back from maine, but i’m still on vacation (away from the day job) for another two weeks. i just hired (!) my man nicky boom-boom to help me with label stuff, so those back orders will finally get out, plus more stickers and t-shirts, buttons, actual duplication (not this cdr bullshit) and maybe some more new music too.

hey everybody- effective sunday (assuming i can get out of
a dinner-cooking obligation on monday), i’m going on an arguably deserved
vacation to vinalhaven maine, where i will neither have nor desire
internet access. all i will have is a bb gun and a frying pan (the working
man’s computer). all i will desire is tofu dogs, a rowboat, some gin rummy
to play and some silly squirrels to caper and dance around me. you can use
this time to bone up on berendesacana, and pretend you’re reading new news
(let’s face it, the same stuff happens to us over and over) by reading the
long-winded archives. or
better yet, read href="ftp://ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext97/1donq10.txt">don
quixote, href="ftp://ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext02/bmaof10.txt">bulfinch’s
mythology, href="ftp://ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext96/cjane10.txt">the
life and adventures of calamity jane, or href="http://promo.net/cgi-promo/pg/t9.cgi?author=Casanova,%20Giacomo&whole=yes&ftpsite=ftp://ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/">the
memoirs of jaques casanova. carry on in my absense by href="http://pluto.he.net/cgi-bin/suid/~fujichia/guestbook.cgi">scrawling
me stupid notes, putting the notes under a rock and spitting on the
rock. love ya. back in a week or two.

yesterday there was a wogan meeting at cool beans (don’t blame me, i didn’t name it). while i was waiting on the street, only three people walked past me, but each one said the work “chuck” while they were directly in front of me. what can this possibly mean?