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| Philly went far better than could have ever been expected - we owned the venue with our unique combination of Unholy III antics and general crowd control, despite Philly's retard-oriented booze buying laws. Kaiju was the best I've ever seen them - everybody seemed fired up, their pacing was really good, there wasn't the usual absurdly long set-up times that plague them, et cetera. Plus we had a great ringside spot right next to a dude who looked like a blonde midget Geddy Lee and his girlfriend who was wearing cat ears and a tail. |
| It's Friday and by God it's a lovely one - the Unholy III are converging again for a weekend's worth of rumpus and destruction in New York and Philly, and if our previous skirmishes are any indication, there's gonna be blood on the dance floor before the night's through. If you're at Kaiju in Philly tomorrow, come hunt us down - we're the three devastatingly handsome men accompanied by the one flabbergastingly beautiful woman. |
| Back to work, finishing this week's installment of my comical strip as submissions for an extremely secret project of awesomeness and stab-worthiness trickle in. I am a whirl of activity but unfortunately not getting nearly the amount of sunshine and funky fresh air I'd prefer to be sucking down. The day's near done, though, and I'm about to let loose on the streets once more. |
| The weather was a bit spastic, sky opening up with gales of rain and just as suddenly sun shinin' again, but my day off was left unharmed, gadabouting uptown and down finishing up all number of snowmen. I started work on this painting for a show in Hoboken comin' up in Ju-ly (look, I'm a fine ah-tist now!) and retired satisfied to bed as thunderstorms came and went on the street below. |
| James Brown, free show, Battery Park Lawn, 7PM today. That's my Goddamned tuesday right there - everything else is just fluff and padding. I've got a good foot to get on, people - get on the train or get off the track. Looks like the weather's picking up, too. HOOOOWWWWW! uh! |
| It's really hard to write a little paragra'h of text about a day that you didn't get out of bed until 2:30, but here's my best shot. E. and I rose zombielike after las' night's ambulations to stagger towards a mid-afternoon breakfast and then tried to see a movie but were multiple thwarted by holiday lameness and lines. Afterwards I went home to find my roommate watching Jackass: The Movie for like the third time that day and shuffled off to bed. |
| Starting to get a little jaded with Motherfucker - another night of the same old songs in the same old order with the same old $9 watered-down drinks seems less exciting for some reason - maybe I'm just jaded and too-cool-4-school or something, I dunno. A little ass-shaking and whiskey-sipping and people-watching and we were done for the evening, out for disco fries and a long train ride back to Queens. |
| Woke up with the rooster feeling born anew - a solid eleven hours of sleep re-moisturized my crackling brain and made it possible for me to speed through today with regenrated aplomb. Unfortunately, even my purified cerebrum wasn't enough to deal with Resurrection of the Little Match Girl, a Korean movie so nuts it bankrupted two production companies. The bets analogy I can make is to the Matrix with more Starcraft and less black people, coherence. Mind fully frazzled, I headed out to E's to return to unconsciousness. |
| Another restless night, woken up by pee and ghosts and nighttime perambulations and cogitations, has left me crust-eyed and rickety and struggling to get through the day. My computer took a swandive into not-working yesterday eve, delaying game even further, and as I write these words the DSL in the office is down, postponing you reading them by an uncertain amount further. Maybe I should just curl up under the desk with an electric blanket and nap things back to work. |
| Working like a crazed monkey on the usual ups and downs - tomorrow's Red Eye, Black Eye is going to be around 12 hours late due to unexpected hornswoggling. My new portfolio still isn't done, for God's sake, and that was a last-week project at best. But another day's gone mostly by, and I'm getting ready to jet out the door with a handful of crap left unfinished, some even untouched. Tonight? Maybe I'll finally get that sleep I've been talking about, although I'm not placing any significant bets on it. Probaby more of the same, trying to fit six days in one but come seven I rest. |
| Crappy, rainy, sleepy day off - I huddled and hid indoors as my roommate brewed up a mushroom soup to keep the sniffles away. Feeling remarkably unmotivated, sadly enough - even though I'm turning out work that I'm loving with a passion, it's like pulling teeth under the influence of barbituates at the bottom of the sea - each motion seems unfathomably slow and dragging. Each brushline takes hours, even though it's my same usual sloppy frenzy. I need sleep more than anything, I think. |
| Am I a big gay for being sort of excited and weirded out that the last episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is on tonight? I can still remember half a decaude ago, when I was still living in Seattle and Tomas called me up demanding that I watch it when it came on that night. My TV was, at the time, covered with a thin layer of dust and grime, but I took his word for it, wiped it off and plugged it in. "Damn," I thought, "this is just like my high school, but replace the vampires with African-Americans." Oh well - at least my Tuesday's will be free from now on. |
| Bossmonster's back and I'm looking busy busy busy in hopes that he won't catch on to all the time I pissed away last week. So I'm scramblin under the radar to get these postcards over the wall, tapping out Morse code through the FTP server, and generally looking professional and buttoned-down despite not giving a shitfuck about anything anymore. It's pretty fucking radical, all told, and I'm about to jet off on some more "errands" that'll involve running around outside, working on my tan and not much else. |
| Samoan came over to drop off his old toys for me to sell on eBay. He had said "a couple bags" but it turned out to be more like eleven boxes full to bursting of atrocious amounts of 80s crapola. Not that it isn't going to sell for a pile of pretty pennies - the two boxes of He-Man alone have enough nostalgia juice to power a year's worth of X-Entertainment. More news as events warrant. |
| I tried to finagle my way into the Peaches show at the Bowery Ballroom with no success - oversold out as usual. Despite my trying to convince the doorman that I was so little I barely counted as half a person, more like an oversized backpsck, I was sent back packing home, my tail between my L'Eggs. Stopped at the neighborhood beer store for some shandy and drank in bed while reading the Battle Royale novel - that's a sad and sorry Saturday night. |
| My lovely and talented girlfriend accidentally kicked me right in the left index finger whilst we were rough-housin' last night. I swung back by reflex and punched her in the wrist. We're domestic abusers. Now it's all puffed up like the Michelin Man and I can barely bend it, making typing more than a scratch difficult. It's pretty funny to look at this big fat purple finger sticking out from my hand, but hopefully it won't stay this way for long as I have band practice on Sunday and I'm not gonna be able to barre chord with this fat man's finger. |
 DRINK MORE SODA. |
| Third day of freedom and things are going well - piles of comics drying on every available surface in my workstation, empty bottles of green tea scattered on the floor, a half-open container of roasted soybeans my only source of nutrition, the stubble from my beard growing imperceptibly longer every minute. No, I'm feeling just fine - why do you ask? I'm most certainly not getting cabin, spring, jungle or dengue fever! Just because I haven't bathed or shaved or spoken to another human being in three days doesn't mean there's anything wrong with me! My boss is gone! CUT ME SOME SLACK! |
| Warm gray Tuesday and I'm cleaning off months of detritus on my desk - office supply reciepts and soup stains and paperclips clogged with my earwax. I've never been the type to keep a neat and clean right-angled work area - I do my best work engulfed in a Pig-Pen roil of chaos and filth. I like to be able to see everything I'm working on at once, and any organizatonal system just hampers that effort. If you'll excuse me, I have some burrowing to do. |
| Back to work, but as I write this I've dispatched the bossmonster and his cronies onto an airplane for the rest of the week. So I'm unsupervised and free-wheeling until next Monday - what should I do with this time? Redesign my portfolio? Buy a bicycle? Draw a mess of comics? Try to scrape up enough money to eat until payday? Yes on all counts, my friends, and hopefully a lot more work'll get done by the time I have to be accountable again. |
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I'm the boss of the hot sauce. I'm the buster of the mustard. I'm the king of the Ring Dings. I'm the mobster of the Red Lobster. I'm the warden of the Olive Garden. I'm the pharoah of the Cracker Barrel. I'm the Grand Dragon of the Chuckwagon. |
| Holed up with a severe sinus inflection, my glottals and vowels caulked with a heavy coat of sinus-mucus. As I see E. off at the subway station, I wait until she's out of sight before expectorating mammoth globs of snot onto Steinway street. I was planning on going out but crippled by throat, skull and nose I huddle up under freshly-washed blankets instead, filling a Slurpee cup with the inside of my respiratory system. |
| I did it - slid through the week by the skin of my chin, this document tucked under my arm and a PowerPoint presentation ready to cripple dicks on wax the world over. It's a good feeling, I guess, but I'd druther have spent the time drawing, playing rock and roll and talking shit to strangers. Ah well, what's done is done, and now there's a bottle of whiskey waiting to move me in. Goodnight and god bless and see you soon. |
| Noneaday today - the huge and overwhelming load of this office project pretty much broke my back right out from under me. Spending a day working at work is most certainly not what I had in mind when I popped out of my Momma's womb so many weeks ago, I tell you what. But it all works out as I stagger the brown-bagger home to Astoria, collapse on the couch for Kurosawa and General Tso, and blissful unconsciousness. |
| The first blast of the eBay stuff is up and running - I'm managing spring cleaning for three seperate people so don't be surprised to see stuff that I'd never purchase in those odd lots. Hopefully I can get it all up and running by the end of the week (I'm trying to slap up a clean ten items a day) and then I'll spend a lot of quality time waiting in line at the post office. If you end up winning something, make sure to mention this site so I can know to throw in some free prizes. |
| Rushing like Neal Peart to get everything done before my boss jets off to California - lots of twitch and hasle, but it'll all be worth it in the end. My desk looks like a hurricane hit a receipt factory here - paper is shredded all over and there's no rhyme or reason to any of it. Hopefully when the slowdown comes I'll be able to get my nuts in a row and Windex my workspace, but until then I'm like a prairie dog in a burrow of work-filth. |
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The hum of a bee on the screen fills the air; the hum of the air through the door fills my ear; the hum of your breath in my ear fills my heart. |
| Sun's out and I'm on the street for pretty much the entirety of it's arc around the Earth, sucking up the UVs and working toward the season's first burn. Did the length of Central Park on the way up to Tomas's, remembering to keep the skyline on my left for fear of getting misorienteered. Still no new bicycle - budgetary issues have put a temporary purchasing freeze on - but my big galumphin' feet get me where I need to go more often than not. |
| So I'm at the Chengwin Quarter Mile Marathon all Rocky'd out, hoodie strapped on and ready to rumble. I overhear no less than four groups of hipsters complaining, with no irony, "Man, there's too many hipsters here," like their day is so ruined by another pair of Diesel jeans. What the shit is up with that - being a hipster is like being a pedophile, nobody wants to admit they are one. Face it, turds, you're in with the in crowd, just like I am. You don't like it, lump it. But that's all forgotten (at least by me) as the starting gun blasts and we're off down Houston, led by the dueling pair of Chengwin and Chunk. |
| Friday comes not a moment too soon, as the sun's out and my pants are tight and I'm hoping for a cool breeze to blow my way. Busy weekend coming up in the city - band practice and a little Chengwin action (which will be familiar to long-time readers) and hopefully buying a Goddamned bicycle so I can tear madcap around the streets of Queens. Bossman's going on another little trip in a few weeks and I'll have a span of unsupervised existence at the office - look for a lot of pantsless updates that extend into the triple digits. |
| The cruelest month has passed back into history, and I'm looking at a May full of activity - weekend trips, film festivals, another Kaiju on the radar - one hopes that I have enough scrilla to do it all without bankrupturing myself. So it's back to eBay I go, agenting for people who have spring cleaning to do and not the time to manage transactions. I've developed a knack for it, thankfully - hucksterism is my nature. That's distressing. |
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all content (c) 2003 k. thor jensen