Today was a good one, dear reader. Not exactly fun, but pretty damn good. I’ve got a lot of writing I want to do the next few days, so I’m going to try to focus on that.
There are multiple lights at the end of multiple tunnels.
N.P.: “The Goal” – Leonard Cohen
Worked a bit on the slasher book today. I was in a mood.
Tomorrow has potential.
N.P.: “Talk To Ya Later” – The Tubes
Too tired and preoccupied to do any serious literary hell-raising this evening. Don’t get me wrong, dear reader…I have things to say. I’m just too tired to get myself worked up into the fit that these topics require. So I’m gonna call it a night.
N.P.: “Jesus Built My Hotrod” – Burn The Priest
Not a bad day at all today. It was kind of cool. Did some reordering of the book…just kind of experimenting.
N.P.: “Schwarze Witwe – TLP Remix” – Eisbrecher
Big bummer about Ric Ocasek. I made that dude laugh once. It was in a video game store in Manhattan. I was talking to the owner, and I described the Silent Hill series as “an Asian chick running endlessly and stupidly through the fog.” The guy that had come in after me looking for a Nintendo Cube chortled at my description. I turned and smiled, and it was Ric Ocasek. He was as cool as you hope Ric Ocasek could be. Before we could have a meaningful talk, a couple of locals had spotted him coming in and brought their kids in to meet the legend and get a picture. Anyway, I was sorry to hear of his passing. The Cars were one of the most underrated/underappreciated bands of the 80s. I liked the Irish stuff he did with Black 47 as well. He will be missed.
Not a whole helluva lot else going on today, dear reader. Too much business, not enough writing. I did get rained upon, however, which was a fairly joyful experience. But once the rain stopped, things just got muggy as hell. It felt like Thailand for a while. Things are better now. Going to try to catch up on the writing.
N.P.: “New Girl Now” – Honeymoon Suite
NIGHT WATCH
S-1 (Anhedonia resident) was the driver of a motor vehicle stopped for a vehicle code violation. A record check revealed S-1 was on probation. A probation search of S-1’s vehicle led to the discovery of methamphetamine, crack cocaine, LSD, ecstasy, a couple pounds of Mexican ditch weed, and narcotic paraphernalia. S-1 was arrested, slapped, and then transported to the main jail (which is, of course, the only jail, Fecal Creek not being all that big of a suburb).
S-1 (Fecal Creek resident) was arrested for public intoxication and then transported to the main jail, where he projectile vomited a truly extraordinary amount of what the booking sergeant believed to be chicken tikka masala.
S-1 (Anhedonia resident) was the driver of a motor vehicle stopped for a vehicle code violation. An inventory search of S-1’s vehicle led to the discovery of heroin, mescaline, peyote, several guns, a grenade launcher, handcuffs, and roughly $2 million in cash, about $400 of which Miss Zeekrit forced on the arresting officer in the form of a rather egregious but successful bribe. S-1 was arrested, issued a citation, and released.
S-1 (Anhedonia resident) was arrested for public intoxication (bath salts), face eating, piracy, the importation of dangerous animals, and an active warrant. S-1 was transported to the main jail, photographed naked, and taunted viciously.
S-1 (Anhedonia resident) was arrested for public intoxication, public urination, lewd and lascivious behavior, pretending to have narcolepsy and violating her probation. S-1 was transported to the main jail.
S-1 (Fecal Creek resident) was arrested for public intoxication, public jackassery, and having a ludicrously long neck, and transported to the main jail. He sang Rush’s YYZ during the entire course of his arrest.
* All information is obtained from the Fecal Creek Police Department Daily Watch Summary. Booking photos are provided by the Fecal Creek Police Department if the suspects are still in custody. All information is a matter of public record, and the media has a right to publish the information. Fecal Creek News may remove booking photos if requested.
A very strange night. Though these days (or nights), they all seem to be somewhat strange. Lots of existential dread, loneliness, and confusion. That’s always there too, but it seems more pronounced, acute lately. The only thing that seems to help any of this is putting words on pages. So I’m going to do a bit more of that.
N.P.: “Du riechst so gut” – Rammstein
How long, dear reader…how long? How many more of this 18- to 20-hour days can the human body take? What about the mind? That’s the real question. Physically, I’m tip-top. But mentally…well, I’ve been running on reserves for some time now.
The good news is there are only about 8 more days until this rotten summer is officially over. The best thing about it will be seeing it in the rear-view mirror.
I was sorry to hear about the death of Eddie Money today. He seemed like a good guy, and had an interesting career.
I’m going to try to get another page or so down before I collapse. I hope you’re doing well.
N.P.: “Peter Gunn (feat. Duane Eddy) – Art of Noise
Kinda hatin’ everybody today. Various reasons…all of which are, of course, dear reader, very valid.
The fucking air conditioning is broken, again, at Hotel California. If things don’t improve soon, I shall have to seek more suitable accommodations elsewhere.
Which I might have to do regardless. California has sucked for a while, now, and it’s only getting worse. Between the chronically homeless and rampant idiocy, it’s become a miasmic shithole that needs to be purged. Ablated. Expunged.
Time to hit the whiskey and make some chicken.
N.P.: “Looking Down the Barrel of a Gun” – Beastie Boys
