holden caulfield v. 3.33

".../bright light city gonna set my soul/gonna set my soul on fire/i gotta whole lotta money thats a'ready to burn so get them stakes up higher/..."

Current Music- Dead Kennedys~ Viva Las Vegas

I think today requires an entry. So this afternoon, Liz and i headed in to Chatham. Bought coffee and chocolate (chocolate covered mini s'more fuckthing=yum), so that was, of course, nice.

Then we meandered all the way over to Eckerd. I spent an obscene amount of money. It physically pains me to think about what i might have done with that tenner. Nonetheless its glorious stuff. Bought some pink pixie dust too, which makes me very happy. I wandered around with pink dust on my eyes, lips drenched in pink frosting-gloss blowing pink bubbles with my gum.
I felt innocent for a second. Then of course, i got home and started listening to the Sex Pistoleros' "Bodies". I am a walking contradiction.

One of the day's high points, however, were the utterly tacky charm bracelets Liz and i purchased. They are all gold and fake antique with hearts and locks and cupids and things. And they cost a buck and four bits from Dollar General. But it makes me so happy. I walk around jangling.

The OTHER high point of my day was Rolling Stone.Granted, you will never hear me say such words again; Rolling Stone is still a shitty magazine. This week's edition, however, is amazing. And beautiful. And wonderful. And dreamy. It is a tribute to Hunter S. Thompson, may he rest in peace. Joshua Landes keeps me up on such things and had recommended i pick it up. Fantastic photos, and great essays 'bout the man, including a brilliant one by Johnny Depp. There is a transcript of a letter he sent to Tom Wolfe. Oh, god, it made me giggle. So much, that i am going to throw out an excerpt in your general direction:
"Dear Tom...

You worthless scumsucking bastard! ...you swine! ...in that filthy white suit...laying all kinds of stone gibberish and honky bullshit...while i'm out here in the middle of these goddamn frozen mountains in a death battle with the taxman and nursing cheap wine while my dogs go hungry & my cars explode and a legion of Nazi lawyers makes my life a goddamn Wobbly nightmare..
You decadent pig...You worthless cocksucker... I'm going to do the whole goddamn trip wearing a bright red field marshall's uniform & accompanied by six speedfreak bodyguards bristing with Mace bombs and when i start talking about American writers & the name Tom Wolfe, by god, you are going to wish you were born a fucking iguana!
...you thieving pile of Albino warts. You better settle down you goddamn affairs because your deal is about to go down...You scurvy wop! I'll have your goddamn femurs ground into bone splinters if you ever mention my name again in connection with that horrible "new journalism" shuck you're promoting.
Ah, this greed, this malignancy! Where will it end? What filth weight in your soul has made you sing so low? Dr. Bloor was right! Hyenas are taking over the world! Oh Jesus!! What else can i say? Except to warn you, once again, that the hammer of justice looms, and that your filthy white suit will become a flaming shroud!
Sincerely,
Hunter"

Alright. Wow. I just typed all that. Ouch.
Need to sleep now, as i am off to mallrat it tomorrow with one Dr. Landes.

Stay cool.

posted by CoCo @ 3/20/2005 09:16:00 AM