I love

The Loving Hut.

Even if I am convinced that there may be human in their food.

Goddamn, I cannot go in there and not smile.

It's been a good weekend. Friday I once again did not go to Critical Mass but Ashley and I went to Stardust afterward and met up with Brad, Fish, Hazen, and James, and then proceeded to get food at the titular restaurant. We also went to Barnes and Noble and were followed around my a creepy security guard who tried to hide his lurking by browsing the sex books. We loitered around outside a bit and then decided to part ways.

Saturday night Ashley, Hazen, Jackson, Chris and his new girlfriend Megan came to my dad's house. That was nice also. My dad has been very hospitable lately, and I really appreciate it. He cooked 4 different meals to accomodate to everyone. I feel the need to repay him, so tomorrow I'll be going to work at his studio with him.

Anyhow. I'm working on reading Battle Royale, by Koushun Takami. Some people out there may know that this book was turned into a controversial movie of the same name in Japan. While I think the movie was overrated, I am enjoying the book so far. I've actually enjoyed reading a lot lately, so if anyone has any recommendations send them my way.

Now I'm tired and I'm not sure what I'm saying.

Fuck.

Bad memories.

In my head.

Last night!

Was really fun. I haven't been out to a good show in a long thyme. Caulfield was amazing. No Qualms was also the shit! (Good job Ryan!) Other bands ruled too!

Anyone know who that little guy was taking pictures? With the big gauges and the septum ring? I see him everywhere, and I'm pretty sure he took some pretty sweet pictures.

Yes.

More than halfway through Ring by Koji Suzuki, I feel a renewed interest in Japanese horror. Oh, nostalgia.

Warren Oakes leaves Against Me!

Meh. I hope the food's good.

Seriously.

Ain't I Cool?

It's 10:31 pm. I've got Asheru (one of few hip-hop artists I appreciate) turned down low and I'm reading Camus, wondering if I'll ever get to the end of this book or if I'll just let it sit on my shelf and start something new, which I also won't finish. I've got wet, unwashed hair as a result of a quick shower, and I've got a flannel shirt with sleeves rolled up keeping me warmer than I need to be.

I am quite comfortable for the time being.

Today was pretty good. I spent some time looking for work, which didn't quite succeed, as I expected, although Panera said they'd possibly give me a call. I don't really care either way, too much. I spent most of my day with Ashley at her house, sleeping, eating, chatting, and whatever else. It was relaxing, and I'm finally starting to feel a bit better than I have been since last week. I'm feeling a bit more secure and I can maybe stop worrying, I hope. Maybe I won't. Who knows. Either way, I'm happy, and I'm in love, so petty problems don't bother me too much. I've always been one to kind of let things roll off my back.

Went to see Forfeit with Chris the other night, and had a pretty good time. I hadn't been out to a show in a while, and I can say I enjoyed myself although I'm not too familiar with a lot of the "hardcore" crowd besides the few kids I hang out with. Tomorrow I may go to see Republicorpse and whoever else is playing Wills, but I'm shit broke, so only if I can magically get some cash. Also, I'm thoroughly stoked for Trash Talk next week. Yes, I gave in and spent fifteen bucks on a ticket, but I just can't wait to see those guys again, especially since I give more of a shit about them now back than when I first saw them.

Anyhow, life is good. The only things that could make it better would be for a certain someone to drop off the face of the planet and for coffee to provide the once-great kick it used to. It's just not cuttin it anymore. Uh-oh...

I don't know how I feel.

A bit guilty, a bit relieved, a bit hurt, and a bit uncomfortable.

What happens next?

Only in thought is anything really fixed,

But I guess nothing was really wrong in the first place.

Perhaps I should stop thinking.

I always have something to worry about.

Note to self -

"pocket-sized" editions of books slip well into pockets void of money.

Why?

Rye?