NOTES FROM THE ROAD
Hello, world. I'm in Long Island (yes, the place where the five guys got run over while trying to picket! And, yes, the place where lots of other notable crimes have happened lately! This is where all the ex-cons go to retire.) It's sunny out here, and I'm visiting friends and I've been swimming and doing some work also, and trying to ward off skin cancer, but it knows where I live. I use SPF religiously, and I don't even believe in god. I'm having a nice time out here, but I'll be getting on the 2:30 pm train headed back to NYC because I'm going to be attending the Trachtenburg Family Slideshow Players Revue at SOUTHPAW tonight. I thought originally it was at North Six, but I've been told OTHERWISE. On the bill this evening will be a ton of wonderful guests and hosts and the Trachtenburg Family will cook up some delicious tasties for us all to eat as they do at every show (that Tina Trachtenburg sure can cook!) and in wonderful addition, HAUNTED PUSSY will be performing, my new favorite metal band.
I wish I knew who else was on the bill, but I do know that the Trach's always set up a solid show, and it will be GOOD, no matter you want it to be or not.
Does anyone like to go camping? I was thinking about going camping soon. Who wants to go? I'm going to Vermont in a few weeks to perform and attend a hippie commune fun time good day festival, I don't know what it's called, but it should be so fun. I love swimming in water that is fresh enough to drink. (You know why it's fresh enough to drink? Because leaches eat all the shit out of it!) Unfortunately, the trade off is that you might get a leach stuck to you. I hate leaches. I think they are so gross. Spiders and leaches. No fucking thank you. I hope that someday there is a war between the spiders and the leaches and the spiders win and then the spiders are so happy with their achievement that they crawl off into the deepest recesses of the world and I never see any of them ever again.
I was cleaning a basement yesterday and lots of spiders live there. Spiders are not my friends. I attribute my irrational fear of spiders to a game I used to have when I was just a chile, a game where you'd have to pick up or touch these fake, big, ugly plastic spiders with this pair of tweezers or something and they'd jump and make this buzzing noise that would just shake the bejeezus out of me. Thanks a fucking lot, Mr. fucking Milton and Mr. fuck ass Bradley. Fuck you fags. I'm glad you're dead. Thanks for ruining my life and making me hate spiders.
I wish I could update my blog every day like I used to when life was good and easy. I don't have a computer anymore. My laptop died when the black out happened last year and I've been computerless ever since. If anyone knows anyone who can fix monitors on laptops, please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org. Tell them I'd be happy to pay a lot of money, but payment will be in the form of currency I choose, probably either one I make up or one that consists of things I have in excess - bottles of discount shampoo that I found on the clearance rack at Duane Reade and those white ankle socks.