on unrelated note, smarmy room mate published his jackass photo on www.makeoutclub.com today, entering the sea of pathetic emo boys looking for a blow job from the internet. i wrote his bio (ha, just like AMG bios i write of pathetic emo boys looking for a blow job from the audience) and was credited as 'lacrimose' which is a word that'd never passed my lips til that moment. be my thesaurus, indeed.
came home from work and my stereo was playing songs:ohia's 'ghost tropic.' i must have accidentally set the alarm long ago, because i think it goes off around seven p.m. every nite, usually to the radio in this eerie, untuned crackle of voices. today is was as if i had some utopian future home, or like my bio-smart co-intern would say, a smart house run by monitoring a microchip in my skin which measures blood sugar levels, heart-rate or the humors - my infinite sea of black bile requires this album precisely as i enter the home! (lament!)
laid in bed in a funk tonite listening to the new lambchop album, sounds like a depressed meatloaf with neil young on guitar. apparent humor in the statement 'lambchop sounds like meatloaf.' not in a laughing mood. also, the singer from the swedish band 'club 8''s solo record, pretty good (wish i had listened to it bfr the indie pop comp, oh well, i'll have another chance) - a few radiohead meets her space elliot smith very 'now' jams, the first one catching me with offhand 'you don't need to tell me i don't need you anymore' lyrics.