Just a quick note to keep you abreast of my comings and/or goings

Hello, dearies. I wanted to let you know that I am currently--and will be for the next couple of weeks or so--in Bergerstadt, Switzerland, staying at a place called the van Reindeling Clinic, ostensibly for rest, but really to try to get a handle on my coke habit. Seriously, I've been running non-stop for months on end now, and I don't even want to think about the kind of money I must have blown. Blown. Funny.

Anyway, one of the good things about this place (other than the excellent meals and the extremely monied and extremely attractive clientele, and also the juice bar) is that I am allowed full contact with the outside world, which means two things as concerns you: first, it allows me to stay in contact with you "people," and second and at least fifty times more important, it allows me to recieve correspondence from America's favorite pop quintet, the Fucking Christs. Which ultimately means more hot tracks of wax to turn your back to. Jerks. No wonder I turn to substance abuse. All right. Here: more songs. One of them was an instrumental a couple weeks back, but now it isn't. The other one was never an instrumental.

Time%27s%20Wasting%20Money.mp3
Langtree.mp3

Meanwhile, while I was waiting for the files to upload, I read that Fats Domino is missing after the floods in New Orleans. That absolutely sucks, as does the story that someone is apparently sniping at people as they try to evacuate a hospital. But the Fats Domino one makes me sadder, even though it shouldn't. Still, I think that, after you listen to the new Christs singles, you should track down Fats Domino's "The Rooster Song" and listen to it with someone you love.

(Oh, and I'll address the comments later, hopefully this evening.)

Soup's On!

Sam said: "I guess this is what they call awkward silence?"

Only when they're being polite, Sam. From my perspective, however, what sounds like silence to you sounds like active decay to me. If you listen closely, you can hear the rotting wooden support beams that hold this site aloft slowly dropping chunks onto the bare, blood-stained concrete floor.

Anyway, all that aside, I've finally found a place to live. The bad news is that I cannot move in until October 8th. The good news, and the reason I opted for this particular apartment, is that it is, as far as I can tell, the single cheapest apartment in Park Slope--$475 a month, baby. And that includes utilities. And if that isn't enough, one of my roommates (who I haven't met yet) is the former drummer for Morrissey. Jealous much? I know I am.

So, with that all settled, I would appreciate it if one of you could either give me or find me a job. Thanks, and thanks.

More Fun with Mailbags

Jacob writes: "Since I know that you personally treasure the teachings of Saparmurat Niyazov I thought that you'd be happy to learn that they've, for some reason, been shot into space."

Yes, Jacob, I am of course a great admirer of all things Turkmenbashi, as, I assume, are all of us who love truth and beauty. So thanks for the tip. As to why President Niyazov's blessed works have been launched into space, alls I can say is, if there wasn't intelligent life in space before, there sure will be once all those crazy space monsters have their minds filled with Turkmenbashi's wisdom.

Thanks to all of you for all of your riveting questions and comments. Without you, none of this would be here today.