2004-06-28 03:20:00 ET
AND LO, they rejoiced
The coming had been fortold of since days of yore; with the alignment of Jupiter and my back porch, with the blood moon rising and the discovery of a $2 Falafal sandwich, we were told the cock that doth crow thrice would signal exactly T-minus 00:38:10, give or take some days and weeks, the Great Dan-Yell of the Western Front would once again return to our mortal plain
I originally read this entry and all the stuff on your myspace on Freitag but considering I was doing it in a blanket of paranoia during my morning job hours, I couldn't properly respond.
Actually, no--I did respond, but I took too long and sk.net decided it wasn't worthy. There was much fuming on my part.
It's lovely to have you back!
Whoa, and in regards to the boombox thing you have in your likes, a short story (*it doesn't take place in a shower, however): I was in Central Park sitting on a bench, just takin' it all in, and I heard this music in the distance approching, some serious early 80's, Yo MTV Raps! type shit. This man comes bumpin' up with the maddest strut ever and he has one of those totally classic old boomboxes, the ones that are like 5 feet long, blastin' early 80's beats. His outfit does not disappoint either. The look on his face also indictated that he knew he was revisting one of the coolest activities from the late 20th century. If only I had had a camera! This crusty rich couple with their flea dog who was shivering, no doubt, from total central nervous system malfunction on account of the fact that full-grown dogs should not be that small and still be living, gave the dude a serious of disapproving glances. "Whatever, Park Avenue Skeez!" I bumped it with him for a sec, just to show my support.