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Spring sprang sprung. Flowers in front "Rape Park" at Drexel University. These lil guys were the only things Living, though. No bushes for the sex-starved to hide in right now.

 

March 27th, 2004.
The high-schoolers have come. Yes, we were fairly warned, but they came like locusts, decending upon the Lloydholme like a plague. There is techno pounding through the floor, with occassionally varied thumping. Cell phones are ringing and girls are screaming and boys are screaming and there is much, much, chocolate.

And this is beyond the chocolate threshold - past the point where chocolate is an orgasmic substance of sublime sugary potency, and is instead... goo. Nasty brown goo which you can't even stand to smell.

Oh God. Thank goodness my car is okay again.

April 3rd, 2004.
So, I'm pretty familiar with the whole "if you don't have anything nice to say, keep your mouth shut" concept, so I think that I'm not going to write much, and simply pull a Strangeland on my lips.

I've had a glorious week of catching up with some friends who I've had no time for recently. I bought a new guitar. All in all, it's been a good week despite (or because of?) the oppressive and constant cloud covering of our current weather cycle.

Quick thoughts? Don't go to the Polly Esther's open mic.... DO go to the "New Rabbit" AKA the Folk Art Cafe... DON'T go rent House of 1000 Corpses unless you've got friends in the room and have some cartoon afterward to dilute the imagery... (though it's REALLY FUCKING COOL)... DON'T try to play a whole gig on a baritone guitar...

Sigh - this not having a computer of my own is really taking its toll.

 
 
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