“I think if you were to talk to Dick Cheney’s daughter, who is a lesbian, she would tell you that she’s being who she was, she’s being who she was born as.”
on the work front: i’ve downloaded somewhere in the vicinity of 600 songs this week at work. strangely, this has not lowered my productivity from its current steady approx 8 mins per hour rate.
picks to click for today:
“tips for teens” by sparks
“gideon’s bible” by john cale
the several hours worth of b-list girl pop groups i downloaded from some dutch guy
picks to not click ever for today:
“frankie teardrop” by suicide. i almost cried out of sheer terror after listening to six minutes of this.
i apologize for the boring post. i can’t really think of anythign to say at work. i don’t really talk at work, so i’m sort of mired in this subverbal fugue state for about an hour after leaving. which being on the subway doesn’t help. incidentally, ask me sometime about how much i enjoy getting on the F train on the first stop in manhattan. thankfully, most days half the train gets off at that stop. i;ve made three subway friends though. (by friends i mean people i have seen twice). one is the guy who wears a star trek communicator badge on his star trek the next generation 10th anniversary leather jacket to go with his klingon baseball hat and cowboy boots (probably not klingon themed). then there is the hispanic lady with psoriasis. then there’s the skinny indian guy with a wispy beard. more later
Pete Beatty 
Holy shit Suicide was scary. After two minutes of “Mister Ray” I wanted to take a header into Puget Sound. I can only imagine what that Martin Rev solo album is like now that he’s had two more decades of social degredation to fuel his creative impulses.