Today’s soundtrack: shinjite iru there will be...
Today at 9:02pm: Pounding the pavement in search of dinner.


I don’t know what I’d do without music. A large percentage of my day is spent with headphones on, my ears are used to being covered by the little foam pads. Things don’t make sense but you put the headphones on and everything makes sense. I need that layer of insulation.

Sometimes I wish headphones came in a full-helmet form. You’d look over at me reading my magazines at the kitchen table and in place of my head would be this big mirrored sphere.

Scratch that. It would be a big mirrored sphere with a little hole in the front and a cigarette sticking out of it.

Today my Pops called me from out-of-state. He asked me to run a simple errand for him and I kind of fucked it up. He must think his kid is such a retard. I can practically see him hanging up the phone and wondering if my mother slept with the mailman. Anyways I went to Hapkido afterwards because there’s no time or space to feel like a retard there.

Actually that’s not totally true. Today I was training with this one girl who’s a fashion model. I’m not talking about that import-car crap, I’m talking like she’s in Vogue Magazine and shit, the big time.

So we were doing these exercises where you take turns choking each other. When it was my turn to break out I accidentally tapped her nose with my fist. It wasn’t a hard shot, just a tap and she hardly noticed, but I realized if I’d gone an inch further we would have had a big fucking problem.

Block, block, blocked. I write this column on urban dating. The last installment was due last Monday, and I’m sitting here at 2 in the morning staring at a not-even-close-to-finished, messy page of disjointed sentences. I suck and I can’t even suck on time.

The column used to be good and well-received but I haven’t had a hit in months. I crank out mediocre installment after mediocre installment and I watch it suck. The readers can tell too, which is great because what I really need in my life right now is self-doubt.

I wish I was one of those people who could just blame my problems on others. That must be great, just blame others and avoid all heat. Gotta try it someday. Specifically I’d like to blame all my problems on Secretary of Labor Elaine Chow, but I’m not really sure why.


ROOMMATE: The milk’s gone bad.

ME: That fucking Chow!


Ahhhhh.

So tomorrow I’ve got to run this errand (correctly) for my Pops, then I gotta go to Paragon over on Broadway and 17th to check out bags for the bag project. I should take some pictures on the way. Maybe I will see something cool. Either way, I will be wearing headphones.