Today’s soundtrack: Pity for me, tattoo, wow.
What a mile!
Where are tonight's crimes going?
Today at 9:02pm: Having a breakfast dinner.

Today was one of those days where it’s not enough for me to sit around and listen to Elvis Costello or old Skatalites tracks. I hate this feeling: I don’t want to go out, but I don’t want to stay home.

Restlessness is marginally tolerable as a college student but outright nefarious in your 30s. Still trying to get a handle on adulthood.

In my early 20s I never owned a couch and had no use for one; my roommate and I were constantly busy with work or zealously conducting our social lives. Now we’ve got a couch, and today after work I collapsed into it. Watched The Simpsons, thankful for the cheap laughs, and fell asleep before the end of the episode. Only a fucking Tuesday and I’m already out of gas.

How do MP3s get mislabeled? I’ve downloaded Queen tracks misleadingly labeled “Roy Orbison,” Joe Jackson as “Elvis Costello,” etc. Do these errors occur at the time of ripping, or does some misguided revisionist rename and redistribute them?

Not that I’m complaining. My philosophy is, when you’re getting something for free, you shut your yap and either eat it or don’t. Which is why I think people who complain about AsianAvenue services or other people’s blogs are retarded. Eat it or don’t. And bring your plates to the sink.

When I was in high school a store named Listen Up Records opened up in the neighborhood. They sold used records (CDs were still a rarity). I saved up for this import Police album with busboy money, praying no one else would scoop it up. On the day I bought it I flew home, pulled it out of the cover and threw it on the turntable without looking at the label.

It ended up being a fucking Carpenters album; somebody’d put it in the wrong cover. I hate when things are mislabeled almost as much as I hate the Carpenters.

Taking the train home from work today I saw a pregnant women in a hideously ugly maternity dress. Her husband, or the guy I assumed knocked her up, was standing too close to me and stepped on my foot several times. I didn’t say anything because I felt bad for them.

The Corporation ran out of work for me, so I won’t be going in the rest of this week. Most people would be excited to have 3/5ths of the week off, I’m not because it means I’ll get 2/5ths the paycheck.

To offset this I’ve got to make sure I have a productive 3 days. Working on finishing these short stories, with all the torturous self-doubt and second-guessing that entails. I hope I can get something out, anything. You know what the writer’s curse is? When you’re busy, you wish you had more time to write; and when you’re free, you can’t write a damn thing.

Uh-oh, getting morose. Quick, list five things I like. Driving fast on 2nd Avenue, that’s one. Eating, that’s two. Sex makes three. Sleeping, four. Taking photos, five.

Hmmm...I think I’d better develop more sophisticated tastes.