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Brent
Bettina
Liz
Kerry
Isaac
Johnny

Monday, Aug. 16, 2004 - 7:50 p.m.

How do you learn about "rotting kitten"? You do a Google search and find The Measure, you sicko. A few more people seem to be interested in rotting kitten than in being "eye to eye with ass", though there are a few.

And why have I been so unwebby? Aside from the moving, the working, and the out-of-town show, I think it's that my head is still adjusting to the enormous outlet of living with someone, and not just a roommate -- I'm living for the first time with someone who might actually want to hear the little song I made up that goes

The red ants la la la
Not in my pants la la la
But on my ankles
With their tiny itchy pointy lancet jaws
They make me mad
They make me dance
And no one likes it when I dance
They really don't la la la la

Here is another little song I made up after accidentally writing in an email that I was sick of being "coped up inside" when it was sunny:

Cope cope cope
Like a chicken in a cope
Like a pig in a pook
Like the pope on a rope
Thank you. That was three weeks ago, and the song haunts me still.

So, now L gets to hear all these things if he so desires, and he gets to hear me talk like an idiot to my cat. He makes good food and makes the yard pretty; I make mediocre food and sometimes make the kitchen pretty. We sit on the porch a lot. It all leaves lots of time for opening up your head to show the other person the goo inside...and this means there's less goo to smear around on this here website.

Remember my bike? The one I gushed about for weeks? Yeah, it was almost ready to be ridden, but on the move over here I crushed one of the parts I ordered from Scotland to fix it. It wasn't expensive, but I was grumpy nonetheless. Still no bike riding.

I'm sure the head goo will increase as it continues to be fed on a steady diet of attention, so soon enough this page will again be brimming with Fun and Words. I also have this awful out-of-town show to grouse about, and a whole band I'm in to re-evaluate. It will be fun.

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