July 30th, 2005.

So tired. It’s 3.27am and my brain is whirling in ci… no… it’s grinding around in circles, running over things over and over and over again like a woman in a Chrysler on her boyfriend with a grudge. Or something. Heh, like when my friend Laurie got pissed at her boyfriend (he’d actually just broken up with her, I guess) and she chased him and ran him down with her car. There’s thoughts like that in my head.

Putnam, CT has decided (like so many towns) that the answer to being placed on the map in an artistic and cultural sense is to get a bunch of some animal or another cast and then painted by lots of local groups. With that as a starting point, you end up at many ending points, including the above … flamincow.

We’re in Connecticut, at Mike’s house – the world could end out there and we’d be none the wiser. We saw the Milky Way tonight. The Milky Way did not see us. We’re too young.

Tonight we played magnificently. The best shows are always the ones when we are reunited with at least some portion of the rest of the band. Sharif and Jason came up from Maryland, and we were awesome. Energy flowed out of me and into Sharif and into Heather and they amplified everything I had to give and we fired it into an audience that was hungry for it, but it brings me home drained. Long and dirty conversations long into the night, and even that ended two hours ago. Since then I’ve been doing my thing – staring at the ceiling and hating consciousness and my own insomnia. Hating it with a passion.

Ah, the glory of Putnam, CT, viewed as if it had been ingested by a bovine marauder. Beautiful paintings.
Ah, the glory of Putnam, CT, viewed as if it had been ingested by a bovine marauder. Beautiful paintings.

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