Sticky W

I am not sure if it is the lack of weed or the inability to exercise the songs in my brain that has driven me to such distraction, but here I am, in a random internet cafe in New York, and I don't really know where I am, or where that is in relation to where I'm staying. I lost the paper that had all the phone numbers on it. That's why I haven't called you. That, and the other things. The "W" on this keyboard is sticking, making typing this bullshit an arduous process. The internet at Spiky and Amy's, being stolen, isn't working, so you'll have to wait a wee while to see all the photos. That photos thing in the, um, photos page is cool, but it's meant to show a linear progression of the removal of my beard, and doesn't. I don't know if that's beacuse Spiky's email is shit or what. Jozef has been doing a brilliant job updating this shit and making cool flash thingies though. I'll start paying the little dude next week.

Anyway, the plane back from LA was OK - the staff were pretty lovely, and I think I nailed all my contract requirements. Wade says I should demand midgets.I would have, when I as small.

All I want now though, is my PC and a platinum trackmaster and a fucking mike.

And these things I shall have. Well, maybe not my PC that soon though. I wonder if it's safe to Fedex. Would it break? I need Sonic Foundry and my Fruity Loops. I am in withdrawl. My left arm twitches.

Being back in the Rivington Street love box made me super happy, and we all went to Central Park. It was amazing. From grass and a fair and giant rocks to ballroom dancing, the place filled my heart. Amy made a daisy chain and I wore it among my hair until it fell. I miss it, and wonder where it fell. And why.

I guess New York is just like anywhere when you're trapped in your head and lonesome, mind. The fabulous Spitroast Brothers are DJing some indie clubs that are purported (In their words) to be "worse thatn Candybox", and I am too far wide in the head to put myself through that. Birdogg and Lady Cee are talking the talk of lives. Amy is in the shower. Actually, she'll be out by now. My eyeballs hurt. I need to peel off these contact lenses. I will go blind. I deserve it, it is true. Men are supposed to learn from their mistakes.

The music in this place is fucking terrible, so I'll shut up now.