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I am presently enrolled in a Tuesday night class that is fucking up my life.

1. I don’t need the class. I’m already over the limit. This is padding. But it’s my dissertation director’s course. Modern rhetorical theories. And that’s kinda my bag. And god knows I can use another go round with these twisted fucking texts. And I do enjoy the material (as much as I enjoy any of this stuff) and brooke’s great and all. So here I am.

2. But everything happens on Tuesday nights. You knew this, right? For example, the band Girls is playing in new Orleans tomorrow night. Sounds fun, eh? Can’t go. Gotta sit in a seminar. Lost. Fucking Lost. Final season. I’m all primed and ready. Can’t watch it. Got no TiVo. Ain’t got shit. Missing out.

3. Complicates band practices/drum lesson scheduling and, more importantly, cuts into my drinking time. Tuesdays a good night for a pint I’ve always found. Not quite as good as Thursday but it’s more spirited than the Monday pint, which is great, but always has an element of the melancholy to it. Wednesday’s not bad either. Then you have the weekend …

4. Since it’s the only time during the week that I have to be in allen hall, and it’s so late everything is closed in Allen hall by the time we meet for this class, if I need to do anything in the English department I have to make a special trip to campus. Who lives like this?

5. Tuesday is the night me and lefty typically play cards. We’ve moved it to Thursday temporarily. But it’s all wrong and we both know it.

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every morning i wake up and ask myself, ‘well, i’ve slept for ten plus hours, do i feel better yet?’

and then i sit there for about five seconds and answer, ‘not yet.’

it’s the worst kind of sick. i’m working at about 76% all the time. not bad enough to watch romantic comedies and rock and roll documentaries all day. but bad enough to make life flat and scratchy and heavy and thick.

one time in san francisco when i was working at chronicle books i had one of these sicks. it lasted about a week. then i got over it. or so i thought. then it came back again about two days later, and no shit, lasted for about another ten days. it went on so long i sorta adjusted to it. like, ‘well, this is life now. you turn 29 and the wheels come off (just kidding, tommy). everything is flat and scratchy and heavy and thick from here on out. no wonder most middle aged people look so miserable. they feel like this all the fucking time. shit. i should have done more when i had the chance. i should have stayed in europe longer. i shouldn’t have fucked around with her roommate. i shouldn’t have quit that band. i should have jumped off that cliff into the sea one more time. i should have said yes more …’

but then one day i woke up … 100%, baby. back in black. just kicked it. one of the best days of my life. i ran around the office like a gazelle. happy. still got it.

i hope that day comes again soon …

until then, a new friend sent me an email this morning. ‘i’m pretty sure it can heal you,’ it said, and had a link to this nice place called a softer world. do you know this?

so good! little picture poems with ha ha endings. sincere little gems. hundreds of ‘em.

so good …

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I’m sick. Not too sick. But I don’t sick well. Catherine Grandbouche says it’s because I’m a man. Hmm …

Everything sucks at this moment, though. I’m under a mountain. Stuck to a mattress. Uphill and dying.

But …

I’m laying on the couch flipping through the channels. Ted haggard and his wife are on larry king. As you recall, Ted haggard is the new life church preacher who was having ongoing affairs with male prostitutes. His wife evidently wrote a book. Whoopee.

Within two minutes of watching, Larry takes a call from a guy in Georgia. The question was this:

“Ted, i mean, I don’t know what you’re really saying here, I mean, do you really think you’re cured of your … gayness?”

I couldn’t make this up. The accent. The genuine perplexity in his voice. Amazing. Nobody blinks. Larry says nothing, and haggard actually offers some sort of an answer, although I didn’t hear it as i was still shitting myself from the caller’s question. This is the stuff i live for. Larry is a regular target of Stern prank callers, but I think this was legit. It was too natural. Incredible. Beautiful.

When they came back from a break Mary J Blige was promoting a song she recorded for Haiti.

What a world!

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ahh … titanic marathon on tnt. usually, after frolicking into the wee hours, i prefer the romantic comedy genre for recovery purposes. but the romantic disaster epic certainly has its merits.

more sluggish than usual on a hungover afternoon. so much so that i’m avoiding the phone for fear of failing in casual conversation. i was in wal mart earlier buying toilet paper (top of the morning), and as i’m checking out the woman says, ‘hi sir, how are you?’ to which i reply, ‘good, thanks. nice to see you again!’ nice to see you again! just like that. all excited and happy. never seen this woman in my life. i don’t know. failing in casual conversation …

flatbed honeymoon had a good one last night at the magnolia cafe in not-so-far-away st. francisville.

great place … little artsy compound in small town louisiana. great food, good sound, nice people, good crowd. they seemed to dig us and booked us again for march 19th. the best part was they have these cabins from the 1930s that they rent out for $75 a night (although they said that they sometimes hook up the bands if there’s nobody using them). so for the next gig, we’re getting some cabins. bring up some folks. play a show, have some food, drinks. retire to the cabins. frolic. wake up, hit the cafe, some hiking, horseback riding, plantation touring … what have you.

sorted.

the other best part was lady of the barge and the ladies of lady of the barge showed up as well. troupers, they are. all of ‘em. gamers. soliders. brothers. sisters. the family grandbouche was there as well complete with roy in a stunning baby blue western shirt. we all ended up at chateau schmitt (sans roy, of course) with gumbo and grass and whiskey and the new music room and the piano and the lovely wood smell and the dogs and the guitars and the songs and the extra extra good good goodness.

**there goes rose, jumping out of the lifeboat. she’s a pisser, that rose. classy broad … **

i want pizza.

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well …

i started the day off by damn near knocking myself cold on the door frame of my closet while bending over to pick up a shoe. damn thing just jumped out at me. serious fucking head shot, though. dizzying. i musta really wanted that shoe, cause i was going for it with everything i had.

i guess the day can only go up from here, no?

just as soon as i remember who the fuck i am and where this dog came from.

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such a nice ring to it, no?

kevin casper … fruit.

i’ve recorded an ep since i’ve been down in the stick.

some of y’all got the limited edition dagan shoot/kevin casper one of a kind stenciled cd covers and tangible media.

hold on to those …

but i ran out pretty quick.

hard to keep up with demand, you know.

simple economics.

anyway, click below to download the mp3’s if you like.

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well …

at least it was warmer today.

and nader is still alive.

and i figured out how to access the pool on the third floor of the downtown hilton. not much to figure out, really. take the elevator to the third floor. jump in pool. sorted. talk to me in about four months …

and i found a cool graffiti clad perch to watch the sunset over the mississippi.

and lady of the barge has new songs.

and it is what it is.

***

a little artie for y’all. recent artie, which is weird … as recent as december. the guy was fucking killing it very, very recently. freakish …

the premise in the first one is they’re doing a news story on chaz bono. artie and howard start fucking around, and finally feel their way to a scene where artie becomes chaz and howard starts to interview him. artie pulls all his longshoreman idioms out of his ass to demonstrate chaz’s newfound masculinity.

start it around 4:11.

‘i’ve got a fifty timer on michigan state … i’ve got michigan state parlayed with the over with iowa … i’m framing a house in newark … i’m enforcing for a lone shark … the other day i shit in a spackle bucket on the construction site.’

alright … this one … ‘the guy who laughs at everything’ … artie just dropped into this one after jd admitted to loving the films ‘look who’s talking’ and ‘the shaggy da.’

anyway … a little artie.

sleep tight.

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