"Thinking" (Ed O.G. f/ Masta Ace, Boondocks Soundtrack)

It's nearly September, so although I'm not necessarily going to be a frequent blogger, I guess I'll start updating a little, especially now that the Red Sox' season and the first production of Love Is Good (which went pretty well, I think, although in my heat-induced madness I actually somehow forgot to plug it on my own website...hopefully we'll get this thing extended or transferred, too) are over. Not that I really have more time, but I do have a few less things to waste time with. Then again, I'm doing Fantasy Football this year in spite of not knowing football at all anymore. I'm pretty sure I made a big mistake in picking Michael Vick, too.

Other random thoughts:
—85 people replied to one craig's list ad posted for an opening at the Greenpoint office, or as some would call it, my need for a new roommate. 85. This is a microcosm of the sheer intensity and density of New York City.

—I'm thinking of recording a really stupid record of covers, done more or less a cappella. That is, in the style of A Cappella by Todd Rungren. Which is not the same thing as the a cappella groups that infested Yale like locusts. The first song on the record will be a cover of "Fruitman" by Kool & The Gang.

—I'm tired.

—David Ortiz, please don't die.


"Melting Study Part II" (Incomparable-Seven, available on the comp. Because You're Funky)

What was going to be a one or two week vacation is gonna extend for another week after this, I think: the meltdown of New York City and most of the rest of the country—

(shakes fist at MSM, Cameron, and all those in the Bay Area, which I hope at least reached, gulp!, 90 degrees.)

—has left me behind on plenty of overdue writing I was unable to do when my face was, you know, melted and dripping onto my hollowed chest. Now I'm alright, in so much as I got one of those Darkman masks to cover up my damaged face, and am looking forward to seeking vengance against no one in particular.

See, this is the sort of bullshit imagery you end up with when your mind is too melted to function properly. Hunter S. Thompson wasn't just on every substance known to man during the Fear and Loathing In Las Vegas era, the man also might have had heatstroke.

See you in late August, but don't tell me I didn't warn you in advance: I've got a play, full production, going up August 24th. Don't stay in the Hamptons or Maine or Vermont too long, you lucky bastards.

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