last call

evil moon

this past week has been evil.

hey man

phil michael and i were smoking cigarettes and listening to old boston punk records last night. around 11 we left to go to the country club because at midnight it would be my birthday. we were a block away when we got the call that sully was at my house. he had just arrived in new york. becka hopped in a cab from hell's kitchen and was there to meet us in ten minutes. i wanted to do a carbomb so we all did them and they tasted so good.

the flu is a real sonofabitch. the sidewalks of brooklyn are covered with snow outside, but my head is a tropical 100 degrees and i'm stuck inside dreaming of high tides and six packs of budweiser while the egg yolk is dipping slowly in a summer sky. the television is slowing my brain, but it's a trusty friend that never stops keeping me company. anyways, put some charcoal on the grill, let it get white hot and i'll be around in a few with some good jokes and a few cold ones to ease us into the summer night. Are those the neighbors who are lighting off firecrackers?

doomed and cool

i was eating dinner with some friends last night and the conversation of fashion versus style came up. my point of view is that you can have no sense for fashion but still have great style. I dont care who designs my clothes, i just want to look good when i wear them. willie and eddie in the film "stranger than paradise" are the perfect example of this. not only is this film perfect visually, but the look and feel of the characters make me wish i dressed like that.