x-x-x-x-x. Jersey City



| | | — | | Arrite. How there was ever time for this is a fucking mystery. A miss-fucking-tree. And hangin’ with these goddam artists, the time goes into what? A typical day this past week at the Mutiny Zoo Manhattan outpost; AKA the Turtle Island Crows Nest. Wake up at ten or eleven. Roll outta bed and do some stretching and shit. Floss and brush the teeth and maybe wash the dry old faces. Do some more stretching. Maybe. Now make way to the wireless coffeeshop, get caffeinated and talk some shit for a while. Then kind of download email and check the MySpace pages for about an hour. Breakfast? So back to the apartment and cook a bunch of eggs and salad or something and eat. Now it’s time for one of those mundane events, after cleaning from breakfast, like laundry or buying a pair of shorts, or going to the post office, paying a parking ticket, dealing with some broken piece of whatever, which ends up talking at least two or three hours. More coffee first. Then an old friend calls or shows up and of course we must take some time to hang out and catch up with this one. We’ll have lunch together. So there’s the meeting up and the putting the food together, or going to a spot, and the catching up and the making sure we’re still friends. Now it’s Five O’Clock and there’s no food for dinner. Let’s go to the supermarket. Oh yea, need water and garbage bags. A good friend is performing downtown tonight and we should really go. What time is the show? We gotta check Paula’s Yoga class tomorrow morning at Ten. Get up at Eight for that and won’t be back ‘till One Thirty. After that really gotta get some work done. Went to an Eightieth Birthday Party for Mom’s Aunts the other day and Unkle… we’ll call him Bill, who used to scare us with his belt when we were kids went into a monologue about how you really have to think about where you’re gonna be in ten years, in twenty years. Are you really gonna wanna be touring the way you are in twenty years? No, Bill. Maybe it’s time to give this music thing up and go into selling siding or something. It’s true, all ends up happening is you get in a car wreck and drain your family and friends for medical bills, or just get old, pathetic and embarassing. Vampires live for a long time ‘cause of eating vegetables and not destroying the liver with Vodka and Heroin. That’s the selfish, idealistic health plan of the creative monster. Hardheaded ice cream and entitle mints. |

Cynical Man Out. Mike |