Austin, Hell

One evening last week while riding the bus home from work I was startled from my silent reverie by another passenger barking the following into his cell phone:

"What the fuck, dude?! I thought you were gonna stop by Central Market and pick me up some tofurkey!"

The Ramzee Files 1

Naturally, a highly sought after world-reknowned legend among djs swamped with headline bookings at all the hottest venues in clubland would never stoop to something so lowly as relentless, gratuitous word-of-mouth self-promotion—except, perhaps, as a way to amuse himself during endless hours of tedious minimum wage data entry.

Lament for the Day

Jock itch.

Dirty Bomb?

Tonight I had the unexpected pleasure of dining with a longtime family friend from whom I used to take swimming lessons as a kid (age five or six, maybe) at good old Stacey Pool in south Austin.

He's now had full blown AIDS for nearly 20 years, yet seemingly couldn't be at all happier with life.

I won't soon forget his account of how on a recent trip he'd briefly been detained by airport security and questioned about the contents of his colostomy bag. His response: "Well, if you must know, it's full of shit."

Lament for the Day

Being the ultra high energy person I am, I nearly always feel completely out of energy.

Thug Life

Without the least hint of irony, I asked a coworker the following question this afternoon:

"So, what's the longest stretch you've done?"

Buttfuckin...

Eatin Egg McMuffin.

O(+>

No longer wishing to be confined by a name, I shall hereupon be referred to as The Mindless Automaton Formerly Known as RT.

The Hanson Years

Babblefish Oracle

For the false plumber who is made being blocky the projection and persuasive power where the large quantity is sharp deeply with the sweaty sheriff where the pump and the panty are large makes be well versed...

Dude, Where's My Car?

It's become an almost weekly ritual: hanging out on my balcony with Dagon, totally blazed, beaming with pride as yet another SUV or jalopy, absent the moron who owns it, swiftly disappears into the night.

Ode to MET-Rx Bar

Crunchy gooey sweet
Infusion of isomers
So satisfying

Dissed...

By my supposedly best friend DAGON, for whom laying pipe up some random ASSHOLE is apparently more important than making good on his commitment to work out nightly—no ifs, ands, or BUTTS—with yours truly =(

Shame

It's a deeply humbling experience, at 31 years of age with a master's degree, to spend a hot, miserable July afternoon landscaping the grounds of a high school you once dropped out of.

Life is good =)

The Galano Files 4

The only flavor worthy of a real man is black cherry.

Sweet release...

I feel better.
And I hope this state of mind will last forever.

Sweet release.
Revelation.
And I want to show the world my situation.

The Box

So much for my naive prediction I'd return home desperate only to crawl back inside, vowing never, ever to leave again...

Aural Gratification

During the absolute mayhem that ensued when I cranked up my stereo this afternoon for the first time in two months, I had the following profound insight:

"Dance like nobody's watching." is simply one of the lamest catchphrases ever coined.

(God I've missed my cds.)

I'm Baack!!!

From a brisk 3000 mile bicycle ride, that is.

(More later.)

Slog

Today I'm reminded of one of the few still-cherished gifts ever given to me by an ex-girlfriend. It's a small pen and ink portrait of Sisyphus, dutifully pushing his boulder up the hill, with a sunny, carefree smile on his face.