it's a shame that it took john peel's death to call my attention to the undertones. that said, I've got some cd shopping to do today.

I had an unfortunate realization at carolina's this morning with nadine. being a friday late night, the place was jam packed with drunks, and there was an especially amusing booth behind us. they were having a conversation about sky bar, and some guy that they'd all met there. "he was not gay," one of the guys said. "he was wearing baggy clothes. gay people don't wear baggy clothes."

nadine and I looked at each other. then we looked at my sweater and jeans. and an epiphany! I like girls after all! none of this homo bullshit for me. the truth has been with me all along, in the generous cut of my garments, and I was too blind to see. all these years I've been living life as a spandex swishbuckler, when I've really been a saggin straight guy. time to hitch up my belt, revel in the acres of fabric swathing my testosterone laden, lady lovin bod, and pick me up some girls. or do I mean score some chicks? or procure some pussy?

idiots.