Alcohol, Jesus, and Death

Or Beer, Coffee, and Laundry . . .

I wanted to name this thing "Exile on Silver Lake Road" or "Nowhereland" or something equally poignant (or equally stupid) so long as the word "Exile" was in it because I really feel like an exile in this new apartment complex, and the whole idea of "Excommunication*" falls in here, too . . . on all sides of me, in all of the buildings I'm surrounded by Evangelical Christians of the Luis Palau variety and I certainly can't see eye to eye with most of them, it's tough when yer in yer late thirties trying to get down to basic terms with Evangelicals who are (most of 'em barely) in their early twenties. On the other hand I have met some nice but rather reserved (medicated?) artists, musicians, and students, but I think one neighbor next door summed it up best "this place had more of a real community feel to it when we first moved in." Of course, Chris (who manages the place) was not around for the fun fun days back in '98 and '99 when we threw Bon Apetit after-parties for the likes of Mutate, A:POD, and Slipknot, but that's probably for the best; he doesn't know me at my loudest and most incongruous, only at my QUIETEST and therefore most incongruous . . .

*I also think of Communique Records, though I don't own any.

I have also been busy removing spyware, bots, trojan horses, and other crap from my PC. Using Firefox now instead of IE. What a bunch of rubbish out there on the net these days!

COOL SITE ALERT!

http://www.strawberryswitchblade.net/

PIECE out . . .