In Session Tonight: The Ghost of a Brilliant Man
Everything went downhill after Shellac.
Yesterday, I broke down after realizing my favorite shirt had to be drycleaned.
Then, I broke down after realizing I had just broken down because of an article of clothing.
Vicious cycle.
Sentence fragments.
Pharms.
Last night, I wrestled with a boy for an hour after sending the message:
I'm five minutes from your house. I can pick you up or run you over. It's up to you.
I was armed, but my weapon was more annoying than anything.
"This is retarded."
You're retarded.
Jingle-jangle.
"Oh, Heather, you're such a cad."
It has an "r" in it, you tar.
It is far too early to be so late.
This song goes out to a special girl.
I like how, in Beaulah's song "Popular Mechanics for Lovers," the line,
"I heard he wrote you a love song, but so what?
Some guy wrote 69, and one just ain't enough"
is an obvious reference to the Magnetic Fields.
... but don't tell anyone.
Today will be my first day of class.
If this had been a real emergency...
I need a lighter.
I need a lighter so badly it hurts.
This is a REAL goddamn emergency.
If Metropointe caught on fire right now, I'd light my cigarette before I decided to evacuate.
Things never spontaneously combust when you want them to.
Today was my first day of class.
95% of Paul Mitchell is Chloe Sevigny.
The best part of my day was spent in East Atlanta,
running stop signs,
watching the clock,
listening to the villain of the story as he snored,
finding my way home at 6 AM.
Yesterday was my first day of school.
This is my farewell transmission.
Today, I can be found cowering in my bed.
I skipped my second day of school.
I skipped draping, shampooing. and the occasional smoke break.
Yesterday was my second day of school.
Juvenile is in session.
This is my farewell transmission.
The villain is away.
It's the end of radio.
I'm afraid he knows how much I miss him.
Signing off.
Yesterday, I broke down after realizing my favorite shirt had to be drycleaned.
Then, I broke down after realizing I had just broken down because of an article of clothing.
Vicious cycle.
Sentence fragments.
Pharms.
Last night, I wrestled with a boy for an hour after sending the message:
I'm five minutes from your house. I can pick you up or run you over. It's up to you.
I was armed, but my weapon was more annoying than anything.
"This is retarded."
You're retarded.
Jingle-jangle.
"Oh, Heather, you're such a cad."
It has an "r" in it, you tar.
It is far too early to be so late.
This song goes out to a special girl.
I like how, in Beaulah's song "Popular Mechanics for Lovers," the line,
"I heard he wrote you a love song, but so what?
Some guy wrote 69, and one just ain't enough"
is an obvious reference to the Magnetic Fields.
... but don't tell anyone.
Today will be my first day of class.
If this had been a real emergency...
I need a lighter.
I need a lighter so badly it hurts.
This is a REAL goddamn emergency.
If Metropointe caught on fire right now, I'd light my cigarette before I decided to evacuate.
Things never spontaneously combust when you want them to.
Today was my first day of class.
95% of Paul Mitchell is Chloe Sevigny.
The best part of my day was spent in East Atlanta,
running stop signs,
watching the clock,
listening to the villain of the story as he snored,
finding my way home at 6 AM.
Yesterday was my first day of school.
This is my farewell transmission.
Today, I can be found cowering in my bed.
I skipped my second day of school.
I skipped draping, shampooing. and the occasional smoke break.
Yesterday was my second day of school.
Juvenile is in session.
This is my farewell transmission.
The villain is away.
It's the end of radio.
I'm afraid he knows how much I miss him.
Signing off.