glorious places inside the sun

Hello cruel world,

last night i traversed the mall again, because that is where people have to pick up their tickets that they buy on the internets. i had purchased tickets for a show which is tonight, which will be a performance by the black heart procession, who are my favourite still-existing superdepressing group with musical saw. plus a lot of their songs sound like they are coming from a ghost pirate ship. that is a description that i like to use a lot, but only for the black heart procession, because nothing else i know is really like ghost pirate ships, and maybe not even the black heart procession.

when i was driving back home i saw thomas walking down the main drag, looking very awkward, which i envy, because i am constantly envying somethings. i decided to park my car and catch up with him because it seems like something i do not ever do. so i re-found him and watched him eat pizza and then we went to a bar and drank beer until after eleven o'clock, which is impressive for a wednesday night.

thomas moved here from orlando at the same time i did, except that he is going back next week and i am not. thomas likes weird music, and plays open microphones with a piano, singing about having the faith to burn your eyes out by looking at the sun because some sort of mythical creatures will reward you by taking you to the world inside the sun. i guess it is supposed to be a redemption, even though i figured that you would just be very blind and hot. i am sure that i am thinking very literally and he is referencing an Alternate Dimension, which is intoned by a spaciousness in the head which is not overtly thrilled with the status quo.

i convinced thomas to come to the black heart procession extravaganza, even though he probably does not like ghost pirate pianos and ghost pirate guitars and midnight prairie saws, but i described them as "indie rock" so he was in.

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next week i am going somewheres, i think maybe alaska or just virginia. virginia is where i lived when i was two and a half decades old, even though i was more often at the airport. thomas was asking me about working on the road, because he thinks it has glory and romance, and that you are constantly having sex with prostitutes. i guess the prostitute thing depends on personal tastes and standards, but i told thomas that there was just working on a secluded turbine, and eating wendy's, and having nervous breakdowns in small town hotel rooms, and that was about it. oh and also being surrounded by real men, who can come to respect lesser men for their odd sense of humour and workaday nonchalance. which is punk, as far as earning money goes, i guess.

anyway, virginia. maybe i will float down the james river in a tube, like we used to.

i would sort of rather go as far north as possible, because i am weary of the bullshit summer and its unrelenting hotness.

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marsha malamet has sent me some messages, which was strange because before the other day, marsha malamet was only a long-playing record with a worn sleeve from 1969, but it turns out that she is also a real person who likes to do searches on herself on google just like everyone else, except when you have a very common name like me then you only end up finding people who are much more interesting than you are, and people like marsha malamet will always be the most interesting marsha malamet that she could possibly ever find, which has got to make you feel good about the world. everyone should buy this because it has a very good song of hers and you will probably not be able to find the record like i did, because you are not accustomed to browsing through used records for hours and hours and catching vibes from the cover art. like i am. okay.

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i have finished and you can all go home, now.