Something-proof

today i served a big table of serious drinkers, read: 5 1/2 rounds of bacardi 151 mai tais and they probably all could've walked the line and passed. the leader of the pack explained how when you've been throwing back the alcohol since the age of thirteen (they were in their late forties) you learn to hold your liquor well -- it just costs more and you gotta have a real job to afford to drink towards all the mirth... though I suspect there was more than just 151/myers/schnapps/brandy cocktails to all the joviality. Given that violence, jackassdom and self-loathing are easy paths when you're drunk, I'd say this group's mirthfulness was a default m.o., deep-tissue exuberance greased with a little late-night liquor...

"why be a wet napkin when you can be happy?"


-alice

LA agriculture

There are several things i'd like to say. One: for the record, LA, despite its reputation for being a smog-enveloped soul-less hellhole, is a very good place to live. So many great people that my mind (being mine) couldn't have ever concocted/anticipated... This past month in particular I feel a little tender and grateful for what i've got out here -- cats regularly peeing on the hood of my car, insomnia soundtracked by neighbors' sex-a-thons, afternoons spent building empires that [I worry] will never exist, music music music & all the dear, unobvious people...

a

Okay so the blogs have gone public

so that you can have access to the quasi-private lives of linister 1 and 2 and so that we can communicate to everyone in particular, particularly ourselves. I think, from now on, instead of talking to Alanna, i'm going to just read her blog. We can sit next to each other in silence but be tiptoeing the dark caverns of each others' minds... Neat.

Actually, blogs should probably be used on a strictly supplemental basis. Real-life interaction with smells and voices...still so rewarding.

gnight my dogs,

alice palace

Another thing....

is I'm supposed to buy an air conditioner today. this after those 2 1/2 years in taiwan where the collective pollution of motorcycles and scooters and fermented tofu joined with subtropical temperatures and people with their a/c units ramming hot air into the overheated streets made me vow to break out the electric fans and the water spritzers and ice packs or simply to sweat it out silly before i'd mount an air conditioner in any room window of mine....but two years later, trying to find scraps of inspiration in the boiler room that triples as bedroom/our practice space, the decision has been made by joint committee. So the personal morality gives way to necessity and what to do but break a few promises in this lifetime. Maybe a new convenant whereby in exchange for not having to suffer and sweat so much while making music, we'll turn the thing on only when absolutely necessary and maybe start bringing our own silverware to picnics.

The neighbor's g-spot

Somebody nearby is getting some. Regular. The sister can be lying on the couch about 30 ft. from the windows and the (highly motivated) "ohhhhhhhs" and squeals are suddenly in the living room coming straight out of the coffee table. The acoustics in the apartment are weird.

All this audio started up about a month ago. If i'm at the computer and the sun's gone down, all the necessary factors are in place for the sex soundtrack to roll in. A. suspects the whole thing's maybe staged, some voice thrower or some pervert/prankster who records uncomplicated radio plays and plays em out the window...Possible. But i think it's just hot when you're rolling around on your futon with another body so they've got it rigged (invisible pulley and weights) so that the windows always go up when the pants are off.