Don't sweat the Panasonics

In an attempt to make up for lost funk, I went to the Albion last night to catch Charless and his double discman shitshow. Since I've spent the week almost entirely in my housecoat and slippers, I decided it would be nothing if not appropriate to just go to the Albion like that. The only thing that would've made the 'I'm here to sweat, bitch' look more complete would've been a 4-woofer boombox on my shoulder blasting Arthur Russell (aside: Charless actually played 'Hung Up' - wicked!) Anyway, it was ridiculoid. Girls didn't know what to do. In retrospect 'Come over, we'll play house. I'll be your screen door and you can bang me all night long' is a better line than 'I'm warm to your form'.

Look at these psychos: And these psychos:
And this robot:
"You owe me 100 push-ups you little betch!"

After five gin & tonics in one hour and a variety of semi-haggard to actually-not-that-bad encounters, I walked to Brett's to take some resi bin laden chronic nug tokes and pass out on his couch. I haven't slept in a bed since Wednesday/look like death as a result.