Made the cardinal mistake of watching Pump Up the Volume while in a generally ticked-off at the world mood. When you flick off your home electronics to find that Christian Slater has been talking to you, you know you're in the shit and it's time to break out the bourbon.
Knob Creek, then, and here's to ya.
See, my problem's different than his, now. I looked up from my screen the other day and I was the fucking problem - older, grayer, haven't done shit and now spending too much time and energy bemoaning those facts. On drugs to keep my mood stable, and on food to keep the drugs stable.
Usually at times like this, I take a long drive to nowhere at all just to feel the wind on my head, but the wind tonight is somewhere down near freezing, so it probably isn't a good idea. Besides, now I've had bourbon, and shouldn't be driving at all anyway.
Harry had it easy, though. He had an identifiable System, and it was staffed by visible people. Parents, teachers, guidance counselors, principals, the FCC (hey, wait, that one resonates...fuck the FCC, man!) and the only people he had to talk to were the misfit freakazoids present in every high school.
What happens when you graduate and join the machine? Who do you talk to then?
For now, Knob Creek. Talk hard, stay hard, and for Christ's sweet sake, bring down the fucking RIAA.Posted by jbz at November 15, 2003 12:22 AM