my black eye? dracula, where's leatherface? sucking off frankenstein? i like candy.

 
hello dear loyal readers! i've been distracted over the past weeks with various business, responsibilities, errands and the like, but then again, who am i kidding? i shant kid you! i haven't run an errand since before my birthday! i've just been gearing up for summer, you know? buying a pair of overalls, burning all of my socks and underwear, kissing girls, and chopping up a whole bunch of talapia with my spanking new hatchet! right now there's my pair of of bloody overalls soaking in my bathtub, and my fancy pair of rockports sitting on the stoop, just covered in meat and scales! i'm embracing life, people. i want to pound on my chest! i want to go down the river! i want to piss whilst walking down the sidewalk under the cover of night! i want to capture every dog i see, and run with them to the hills! the dead hills that is. fuck! let's do it!! get ready, i'm coming over.
posted by scarnsworth at 10:07 AM

 
i developed a penchant for going to the library this winter. this winter i would read and read. and it was ok or good, depending on the day but mostly ok. somehow recently i forgot about doing that. my library fines accrued to the point of financial burden, but still the library lurked nowhere in the corners of my brain. that's weird to me. today i read again, and it felt ok again. i think there's something new going on though. it was different this time. i looked at those days with a nostalgic feeling. i think that there are new days now. this means a lot to me -- i feel it. there's something deeper afoot here, but i'm too goddam stupid to figure it out.
posted by scarnsworth at 10:34 PM

 
I met Whit Stinkley last night. I'm sure that this guy would answer to a name other than the one given to Rippy during the opening ceremonies of Turtleneck Saturday, but the name Whit Stinkley suited this rube perfectly. We were walking to our cars after leaving the Manhattan. There were two others (Gert and Curtis) in our party accompanying me. We walked to the lot behind the bar and headed towards Gert's 1997 burgundy Nissan Sentra sedan. Just as Curtis and I approached the passenger side of the car, Whit Strinkley quickly emerged from a late 80's early 90's SAAB hardtop coupe that was either dark blue or black in color (It was too dark to tell). Mr. Stinkley, who had a large head with a receding hairline with tightly curled blonde locks streaming back towards his neckline, resembled an effete Kurt Henning (facially) to a fair degree. He was wearing a buttondown oxford longsleeve shirt with a tie and dress slacks. His clothes weren't wrinkled in even the slightest fashion, and he was of medium height but possessed a willowy frame upon which his ratherlarge head rested. He rushed between Curtis and I looking very nervous and hurried, but paused for a minute after he passed us. Then he spoke, saying "Oh excuse me, I thought I was about to get mugged." Then, as quickly as he had appeared, he was out of sight. I gave the Saab a half-hearted kick above the driver-side rear wheel and then proceeded to get into Gert's car. It was 1:00 a.m., and I had consumed far too many dirty vodka martinis.
posted by kenniebloggins at 2:20 PM

 
i had a dream last night that i kissed fran. it was weird because prior to the kiss i had helped someone kill a guy at the bus-stop with a baseball bat and there was blood everywhere and you could see his lungs and people were looking for me. i ran from the scene with the befouled bat in hand all the way to memorial hall. then i ran into her in the stairwell. she was carrying a stack of thick books. she wasn't as surprised to see me as i was to see her, though she did wonder why the fuck i was there. i couldn't've told her, and everything was further awkwardized because when i ran into her we morphed into some sort of uncomfortable embrace. that's when the kissing incident incindentalized itself. it was so weird in the dream because most of the time those things aren't weird in dreams, but i guess had just beat some poor guys lungs out of his chest so it was probably par for the course. i saw wolf eyes this weekend in st. louis. lots of cute girls in st. louis.
posted by scarnsworth at 1:37 AM

 
i talked to dracula himself the other day. ok, i didn't talk to him, but i looked at him really close for a long time. he has an odor to him. a weird gym sock slash meat odor to him. i wanted to know answers to the questions that he inspires, but i couldn't talk to him. i was too afraid. he's black. not like taye diggs, but like a spectre of emptiness and vacuous blankness and rage. there was blood on his teeth, and as he was writing i heard him mutter to himself that there would be more. i hoped so kind of, for though i wanted dracula dead and be free from his ghastly reign over my township, at the same time i wanted something else entirely. he wasn't well-dressed. he didn't look too sharp. his outfits mimicked the outfits of movie vampires but didn't really quite make it, and he wasn't groomed as well as he's portrayed to be in hollywood. i felt like vomiting, and i wanted it to be all over. i made the last bit of tasteless (again!) coffee go inside me and teetered on my perch at the bushes as he picked up his things and felt his way along the causeway. i can't kill it. i can only make it stronger.
posted by scarnsworth at 1:24 AM

 
Last Tuesday at about 7:40 p.m., I realized that the new Yo La Tengo album had been released earlier in the day, and I just had to have it to listen to at that very moment. I was scheduled to go over to Gert's house to eat taco casserole and watch a dvd, but I decided to make a run for the record store before heading over to Gert's new apartment. I ended up racing to Gert's place, which is only about a 3-minute drive from my pad, to drop off a baking pan (Gert had just moved in last week and hadn't the time or the cash to stock up on cookwares). I dropped of the pan, gave Gert a quick hug and a peck on the cheek, and careened out of the driveway in my 1997 champaigne-colored Chevrolet Cavalier sedan. The time was 7:45 and the record store closed at 8:00. I raced downtown, a five-minute drive, tops, and looked for parking. The record store is on Clayton, but I had to park all-the way over on Washington St. I found parking easily enough, and quickly evaded a stranger who tried to ask me something. I walked hurriedly to the record store and went inside. It was 7:55, and the only other person in the store was the clerk, who sat perched on a stool behind the counter, I began thumbing frantically through the Yo La Tengo discs, but found nothing new. Then I looked at the front display, where all the hip new shit is located. The clerk, who looks a bit like he could be Orphan Annie's uncle, stared at me and said, "What are you looking for...The new White Stripes." My gawd, I didn't know whether to take this as an insult, a compliment, or some pro-active customer service from a dude who just wanted to get the fuck off of work. I immediately abandoned a sarcastic response and opted for sincerity. "Errr, the new Yo La Tengo, i said flatly."
"That comes out next week, he replied." I quickly saidthanks and left the clerk to his closing procedures, wondering, as Ileft, if I really looked like the kinda dude who would freak out over the new White Stripes record. Some questions are just better left unanswered.
posted by kenniebloggins at 11:56 AM