2004-03-15..12:02 p.m.

The composition of my mind today has been alternating between an identity-confused puppy chasing a ball of yarn, and dementia rummaging through the garbage. Nothing is connecting. Granted this could simply be a symptom of Monday. Did those Mama�s and Papa�s ever hit the nail on the head with that one.

Insofar as the Michael thing goes, today I�m feeling less shellshocked and spewy, and more or less resolved to bury the entire episode one day up his meta wanking ass. Or resolved to remind myself I�m better off just not doing the friends thing with this one. Which is upsetting, because I�m usually pretty good at doing the friends thing and am in fact still pretty close with a number of old lovers.

Regardless, last night amid a truly weird combination of gloom and self-disgust, and groping cyber sex with the American Drummer Boy, I some how managed to make a vitamin E capsule explode all over my stomach and so for the next hour or so I kept getting solitary giggles because the vitamin E essentially just ejaculated all over me. Like an overeager eighteen year-old boy. One minute I�m fondling its firmness, caressing the silky seam that runs up its side, the next I�m having to mop myself up and my fingers are all sticky and just making it worse and I�m all annoyed, but not wanting to show it, because I really wasn�t ready yet and I don�t know when we�ll next be able to do this because I�ve got a really busy week ahead of me�.

In the same manner I wanted to run around screaming I�M COVERED IN VITAMIN E CUM! And collapsing in corners laughing with my best friend from high school, with whom I used to spend much time collapsing in corners, shrieking with merriment and mirth. (We used to entertain ourselves completely playing I BANG YOU DEAD at lunch time. A sort of shoot-em-up cowboys and Indians thing that involves clasping ones hand together, indexes a-pointing a la Charlies Angels, running behind pillars and trees and other people. Much to our delight, the only response could be I BANG YOU ALIVE and then running into the washroom for a water fight. We were so cool.)

The expulsion of vitamin E ejaculate now means that one half of my belly was all glistening and dewy by morning, while the other side remains dry and ravaged by (the very slight) scars of age and rugby (Despite being a mere 8st, I still cleaned out the competition to be team captain in my final year at high school. We sucked like lollipops; however, I was a benevolent leader. Careful and accommodating, beating only the mediocre to bloody pulps when they did not perform, yet lavish in my praise and locker-room orgies.)

A continuing THEME to my WEEKEND:

It was agreed and confirmed last night that I�m going to get a copy of the new Homescience album to critique! Huzzah for me! Huzzah for Track and Field!

I have been invited to write for an online music mag, which I will name in due course (i.e. when I�m actually published in it, because I am superstitious and to do so now might jink it.)

While critics are now starting to FINALLY award them the credit they�re due, I�m constantly irked by the fact that radio stations are increasingly hailing The Distillers as the gritty big next thing. Well if by gritty they mean accidentally exfoliating with the towel stuffed at the end of a 17year old�s bed, then yes. Something drills into the side of my head when I hear them. It�s embarrassing and cringing and Courtney Love/Karen O. rip-offing, and all in bad ways.

A continuing THEME of this ENTRY:

I am fixated on sperm, apparently. Hooked on cum. It�s the Girl Who Cried Cum. Look out world, for she is evil in her ways.

It make me laugh.

meep bountiful