2003-02-28 - 3:14 a.m.

Nothing is better than taking a nice Guided by Voices bath, though.

My ears are all wrinkled now, and the aromatherapy candle is all depleted-like. I've absorbed all I can from my waterlogged Cosmo.

It�s been three hours now. I can�t believe the water is still warm.

I just love sloppydrunk-some-dude's-backyard-birthday-party Crying Your Knife Away. G-motherfuckin-B! Or 'Cmon, Bob, sing another song, I'll be dead in a year!. Or We love Bob and we love his band GBV. (and then, awkwardly) We love lo-fi rock!

I love the hooks, I love the two minute ditties like snowflakes, I love thinking that a song is about nothing and then getting it, like a Robyn Hitchcock song, and then the song becomes part of what I believe in, I love when they�re polished, and I love when they�re randy and drunk and who the fuck cares anyway.

That dude will never stop singing.

Oh, I wanna listen to Frank Black for some unrelated reason.

Fuck, no. The �puter just jockeyed up Dragons Awake. Ain�t no way I�m gettin� outta this tub.

In fact, soaking, I think I just might draw a new bath.