Sublime Humor

20.10 I am a cute little rodent hiding under Jenicek’s couch. Soon I will emerge and throttle him with a pipe wrench. It is too bad his English is so fucking bad that he’ll never appreciate the sublime humor of the first two sentences.

Heil Fucksheep.Org.

20.12 I am sitting here contemplating finishing the drum machine part to “Work Song”, a Calvert piece I have been working on slowly for the last few days.

The chord progression is minimalist to an extreme, but the song has always had a compelling edge for me. I will attempt to mp3ify it before the end of the week. Well, that is, if I finish the bleeding thing.

21.16 It seems I must go to a meeting arranged initially by Jeníček because dickboy is out of town. Dammit. Maybe I’ll have some vodka before I go. That will make it more fun.

22.49 Dead evening. Vodka absolute. Viking babbling to no end in a language I can barely understand unless I am coherent in an adjacent room. Magma is too pertinent to the evening, bubbling into the air uncontrolled. Needed.

Why are womens’ voices so obtuse, abrasive? They should be silenced from birth with a scalpel. I would gladly do it myself.