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Amazing. Thank you, Contrarian.

The next School Bus CD will either be called “Blue Button” or “Drinking Games”.  Which do you like better?

I had a lot of weird dreams last night, one of them was sort of about me phasing out some of my old friends.  I’m definitely guilty of this.  Why did I do it?  Who do I think I am?  I just let it happen.  I’ve been phased out by a few recently.  Fuck it.

Anyway, today’s the day that we finish the release of Renaldoh, March’s 3 inch (yeah, I know, but it’s been real hectic and busy around here, so fuck all). Very excited for Ryan Power’s May release. Hmmm…are we missing a month in there? Shit …

So the picture: not my tooth, but it is my hand. Poor little friend Autumn fell drunk and hit her mouth against a pool table and this is what we have to show for it (not to mention the ER doctor that now slinks around the bar we work at and keeps asking her out … fucking doctors).

So don’t stare at the sun, ok? But if you must, for Christsakes, keep your damned mouth closed.

so i was thinking about that night in burlington that we shut down three needs, broke glasses on the floor, had silly dances, and then a rendition of man bites dog … that was a good night!

She forgot to mention the final glass she tried to throw from the passenger seat of my car … she failed to notice that the window was closed, and threw a half-full Cape Cod at the pane of tempered glass separating her from the quiet 4am street.

Twas awesome. I miss that girl.

I haven’t had the opportunity to congratulate them appropriately yet, but this is a start.

Anyway, that’s something, sure, but it gets worse.

We get back to the apartment after talking with la policia, which is obviously going to be of no help, and we eat, then Drew and I decide to be pigs and go out for some beers and guaro (sugarcane firewater) … and after a few hours of sipping and gawking, we get into a small discussion with a few ticos, Andres and Pablo, regarding the current situation in Iraq. I knew it was getting off to a bad start when Drew slurringly says, “Well why the hell shouldn’t we police the rest of the world?!? They Obviously can’t do it themselves…” Suffice to say, they invited us outside … we remained within the safe warm bosom of El Celio (the bar we were at) and eventually, after much machismo and bravado, they left. After a few more rounds, we head out, and we’re stumbling down these little windy streets and the rain’s really coming down and he’s got a raincoat and I don’t because some cabbie’s wearing mine at the present moment, and all of a sudden, BAM! Glass shatters and Drew screams, I spin around and its fucking Andres and Pablo, and Andres has just smashed a bottle of Imperial over the back of mi companero’s cabeza (so much for policing the world), and he’s holding the back of his head and cursing a storm, then, flash, he jets, he runs like a fucking ghost in a hurricane, he’s fucking Swayze, and I’m there, a little confused, looking pleadingly with the two attackers. They advance at me, I flinch (I’m sure), then laugh menacingly and walk off, patting each other on the back and disappearing into a streetlightless night. Huh. So there I am, shaken and tipsy, alone after 3 and a half hours in Central America, with no idea of where the fuck I am … no phone numbers, no idea of anything. I start heading in the general direction my yellow gazelle of a friend ran in, looking for possible blood trails that may lead me home to my lack of bag .…

… anyway, luckily enough his wife is the better half and came out looking for me and found me sitting on footbridge smoking the last of my american cigarettes and humming the melody of that mogwai tune called “Yes! I am a long way from home!” … I won’t admit it tomorrow, but I think I might’ve been tearing up a little …

Fucking A. I think I’m going to go and buy a raincoat now. Enjoy America while it lasts, folks.

LENTZ:
That is the greatest dream I have ever heard about. To me, it symbolizes the deep love that you feel for me. I’m not kidding either. Dreams about records=love. I also forgot that I was looking for Dirty on vinyl. Thanks for reminding me.

COOLEY:
It’s getting re-released on quadruple vinyl this summer, cuz the CD’s getting the same 2CD expansion treatment as
“Who’s Next” in a couple of weeks.

LENTZ:
I had a dream about shitting last night. I won’t go into it.

COOLEY:
Dreams about shitting=love

LENTZ:
In that case, I dream about shitting on you.

COOLEY:
Should I plunk down $30 for the “Who’s Next” double CD thing?  Ugh.

LENTZ:
Regardless of what I have to say, I know you’re gonna go out and buy it  anyway. I don’t know. What did they do to it this time?

COOLEY:
Who’s next: some demos, the whole live Lifehouse show they did at “the Vic”…when everybody was supposed to
be connected with the one note pure and easy and personalties would get intertwined with computers and whatnot.  Yup.

LENTZ:
Yeah, get the WHO’s NEXT. What’s thirty bux? Five maybe six, miserable  Canadian-occupied tables at the Five Spice?

Sheesh.

Still not the point, though. I’d talk about my mother quicker than any of em, so that’s not why the gun came out. I just wanted to erase that fucking Cooley-grin off his fucking face, you know? That you’re so ridiculous, I can’t even laugh about it because I don’t feel a thing about you look he had on his face, the narrowed eyes and thin downturned lips … OH! I’d shoot him again if I hadn’t already done it!

But he’s right– I’m real sorry about it now. I feel like a real shitheel about it. I was drunk, you know … I was just describing what it felt like when I shot him the other night. So, hey, today I bought him the new “Dark Side of the Moon” 30th anniversary re-issue … something he can maybe zone out to while he’s still on the meds. Supposed to be real crazy on the panning and what have you.

Despite it all, I love that guy, you know. I will never ever shoot him again.