31 May 2007


A forensic psychologist friend of mine advised me to "stop the mania". He says I update this site too much and he may be right. Stuff I've written that I was momentarily proud of is instantly shoved to the bottom because I'm constantly updating this with hot breaking news stories. I'll try to "stop the mania", you dick. I love you.

This morning I switched up my breakfast routine and had a fruit and yogurt situation which turned out to be pretty deelish. It made me think about diners. I really need to write a good long article on diners and how fascinating I find them. From the kids meals named after planets and constellations to the paper placemats with the old cocktail recipes to those cookies at the register that crumble just looking at them to the ubiquitous "healthy choices" which most always boasts the quintessential cottage cheese / grapefruit platter. Its all so innocently 80's that I simply love it and can't get enough of it.

Before I got to my office this morning I was stopped in the street by two tourists...................... I immediately recognised the French accent. The dude had on a Cypress Hill shirt and the girl was a few loose paces behind him looking somewhat puzzled and more lost. He asked me where the post office was but in his accent "this" rhymed with "office" in a peculiar way I can't really explain. Unfortunately I had no idea where the closest post office was and I felt bad because it instantly reminded me and my best friend R. frantically wandering around some foreign midtown during the A.M. rush hour trying to find a consulate or the post office to take care of some dire bureaucratic bullshit on tour. Thats another very long story I need to commit to writing: What its like to have your giant tour bus break down; be abandoned by your American record label and your European booking agency therefore being forced to rent two vans in France to continue the tour, then have one of the vans get smashed by a tractor at a festival in Holland that you're about to play with Run DMC, then when returning the vehicles to the car rental spot in France cause an accident because some guy was letting you cross the street and the guy behind him smashes into his trunk. This is all true and all being saved in my head for my autobiography which will be called "Shit Sandwich".

So I guess the moral of the story is, less news for Gotham City and more memoirs and observations.


Anonymous said...

that forensic psychologist sounds like a douchenozzle.

Anonymous said...

I'm with you on the creative diner kid's meal names. Superman, Batman, Spiderman....and then those motherfuckers gotta sneak in Hercules.