Earlier today, I was sitting in a waiting room reading Chuck Klosterman’s views on cliches while VH1 was (shockingly) playing videos featuring close ups of bearded singers wandering around nondescript cities, bemoaning the loss of either their girlfriends or testosterone. And during all of this my mind started to drift towards the idea of cliches and how to avoid them. The most important thing is this: If any of you play a Morrissey song at my funeral, I will come back and haunt your ass. “Satan Rejected My Soul” would probably be the only song that would work and be amusing, but anything else would just perpetuate that it was the only music I listened to and that I was never once happy. Be creative people.
I was going to expand upon the lat paragraph until I realized that I am not the great CK, so I’m going to stop now.
Also, I take back some of the things I said about Twitter, thanks in part to Phil. I have come to realize that I am only one yet to get an account, but that’s probably for the best considering I have the least to say. Odds are 10 to 1 that I sign up for a Twitter though. Place your bets.
My laptop died, so until Paul comes and saves the day I’ve set up a refugee camp 2 feet away on the family computer. I was bitter at first, not having access to 40+ GB of music and games, but this computer is actually much faster and less cluttered than the laptop. So it’s a draw.
Less than a week until I become a productive member of society again/get tan!