This journal is now friends-only, but if you'd like to read it, comment and I will probably add you!

I'm back in Brooklyn. The people who noticed my absence the most were the guys at the BEER STORE, who were all, "Welcome back!" Oh boy.

a blog that recently posted a (lovely) review of my first zine subsequently tagged the review with the following keywords: "detroit, poverty, christmas, music, death, hope." Well, in a nutshell...

Does anybody else feel that those little mini liquor bottles they usually have a liquor stores are a perfect Halloween trick-or-treat prize for the kids?

So I was at the theater last night, seeing Eric Bogosian's "Suburbia," when I see a small woman with a razor-sharp bob wearing Chanel. And I realize... it's Anna fucking Wintour! As in, the editor of Vogue, which I have read since I was twelve! Aw, my first celebrity sighting since moving here.

Me: I hate moving.

Dad: Oh, me too. Hell, if it were up to me, I'd take my guns and the golf clubs and leave everything else behind.

( low-rent therapy and real estate )

So, now everybody at the club is telling me they saw me on lastnightsparty and that I looked totally wasted. And I found myself, and I look totally wasted. Life is hard.

Last night I had my first dream that was set in New York.

So I'm sitting in the Starbucks on the north side of East 57th --- there's another Starbucks directly across the street, on the south side of East 57th, but it's like, fuck that Starbucks, man, I've decided that I like this one. Actually, I hate fucking Starbucks, but I'm in New York, so, I'm sittin' in the Starbucks, I'm reading the newest ( Read more... )