Wednesday, April 14, 2004
I'm so tired today.
I want to write something good, but I have to find something to write about. This morning I was all miffed about the radio, but like so many bad dreams, as soon as I got to work, the memory of what it was that got me hyped up seemed to subside.
I've been working my ass off here at work and at the 2 shows I'm doing. I spent the first day I've had off since January walking around in the rain in Brooklyn and I need a manicure something horrible.
That's right, I'm a fag and I don't care. I want to go home, curl up in my Bill Blass sheets and rock myself until I'm in my much deserved coma.
I want to write something good, but I have to find something to write about. This morning I was all miffed about the radio, but like so many bad dreams, as soon as I got to work, the memory of what it was that got me hyped up seemed to subside.
I've been working my ass off here at work and at the 2 shows I'm doing. I spent the first day I've had off since January walking around in the rain in Brooklyn and I need a manicure something horrible.
That's right, I'm a fag and I don't care. I want to go home, curl up in my Bill Blass sheets and rock myself until I'm in my much deserved coma.
