devious thoughts from upstairs....

[army_of_plastic]

hmm, soho lounge. somehow getting plastered and ambling into a three dollar cover with amongst flocks of plasticity has lost its manic charm. two bottles of mad dog, enough booze to make a perfectly sane man pick a fight with his esteemed spouse of years over utter nonsense, now makes me feel like vomiting the contents of my soul over the blacktop. my semi-crippled left leg (which had come-back in a recent fit of biological rage) had me doing this type of peanut-butter & jelly-type style of dance that made me look like i was seven years old.

alex jones was raving at the top of this lungs about government conspiracy on film downstairs. upstairs was filled with the same glittering faux-indie spirit that is beginning to resemble south beach high-life. too much dim lighting, not enough clove cigarette smokers, as i found myself with a deep craving for those. it was all a familiar whirlwind of routine and heathered shirts. in short, soho is now so horrible.

ah, yes. to actually feel the heart of something new and exciting, some new event that breathes life into your soul, leaving you awe struck and punch drunk in sheer happiness. something new has to emerge from my six square-mile universe...

anyway, got new ink on my left forearm, will post up a pic on that soon.

r.