Life is a Pigsty

The imaginary boy is goin to Grand-ma-ma's for a few days so all productivity will stop, the lounge will be open but only if you can track me down in one of my favorite watering holes where i will be drinking Guiness and Amstel, ingesting secrets, having the occasional glass of Irish whiskey, i will be playing the jukebox: the Smiths, Joy Division, Jane's Addiction, The National, The Hold Steady, Dinosaur Jr., old rock, new rock, no rock, cock rock, stoner rock, glam rock, but no techno cuz it's a crash course for the ravers, i won't read the papers, i'll bet on ponies, i'll watch the steel sky as the gales of November remember, remember, i'll keep thinking to a minimum cuz someone once said it was over-rated, i'll talk in short clipped sentences as if i was a character in a James Ellroy novel, i will avoid fights and dance with loose women (with any luck) i'll be mistaken for a stranger by my own friends, i'll rip off song lyrics and pretend to be witty and who knows maybe i'll come back with something interesting to say instead of this constant drivel that seeps forth... or not.