luna park

boom. making things happen.

closer (2004)

the finish

my last unencumbered weekend led to blowing a quarter of a wan within twelve hours, and a whole bunch of rash decision-making, confrontation with strangers, and drunkenness, with frequent overlaps. to be honest the weekend felt like a three-day version of the "smack my bitch up" music video by the prodigy. tomorrow is the weekday, but it won't feel like a weekday for me because i don't have work yet. it will feel very much like a weekend day because i will be running errands, watching film, and eating outdoors.

the peerless max roach passed away on thursday. i got a call about it that evening and as soon as i picked up the phone i was overtaken by this feeling of dread. there was a feeling of inevitability about it, so much so that when i saw his obit on the front page of the times the next morning i couldn't muster a reaction. there are no words for genius of his magnitude, especially when combined with how energetic and poised he was.

sade - never as good as the first time

"the rose we remember
the thorns we forget
we love and leave
and never spend a minute on regret"

x-files

i came to a stark realization yesterday. a guy was selling a red 8gb ipod nano on craigslist and i met him on 125 and st nick in the late afternoon. it was a poor, generic, dirty fob named victor, maybe 18-20yrs old, with braces. the ipod retails for 250, and he was selling this one (three days old) for 200.

i negotiated his offer down to 165 when i realized: i trust no one. why get fucked over by a stranger? despite the 34% discount i hated the look of this kid. so i declined.

he then had the nerve to ask me for five dollars to cover the ten minutes he had waited for me. i briefly considered launching into a mini-lecture on the difference between fixed costs and sunk costs, but instead politely yet firmly declined.

something about ipods makes them a very different craigslist purchase from dorm room furniture. or maybe it was just the filth of this kid. either way. let me leave with a quote from marshall bruce mathers:

"fuck everybody."
- 8 mile