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Tuesday, Sept. 24, 2002 @ 12:03 am

On the eve of the last day for Joy and me in our first apartment, The Violent Femmes still suck shit twenty-some years later on Last Call with Carson Daly

The furniture Ė our couch and chair with tables and tv and stereo Ė is crammed against a wall, pushed aside to make room for a mountain of boxes packed with CDs, dishes, books and other comforts like cleaning supplies, remote controls, knitting needles, and soup cans. Iím situated in a puzzled mess of cushions enjoying this apartmentís last night of staying up with the laptop and television until the sun peeks through the windows. Boomer the cat might be dying (vomit and carpet pissing all in one week!), or possibly just overly concerned about the move. He must know something is up. In just 24-hours, this apartment turned into a heap of signals that a giant exit was in his future, and Boomer just doesnít have the nerves for that type of shit. Iím a lot like he is, but Iíve got Joy to help pull me along, and itís a damn good gift she gives! Without her, youíd find me and the cat wandering lost around 105th St, just blocks away from our new house, but still lost somehow, confused by the new neighborhood. If we found the house, weíd be cowering in a corner inside, scared shitless by the new colors of paint in the new rooms, shaped in new ways, with new spiders in the corners.

Iíve grown close to late night television hosts. Earlier, Craig Kilbourne (sp?) had The Moonie Suzuki on, and he talked about legends of garage rock. Joy and I listened and liked it, thinking dumbly for one second: ďHot shit, maybe sometimes decent music can still be on the tube!Ē But no, no. Not so! Twenty minutes later, an ad for Nike with Suzuki in tow! A marquee with the bandís name, the new overnight smash hit blaring to choppy shots of hip-ness done just-do-it style, and the swoosh for a closing scene. Sons of bitches.

Last night in our first apartment. Joyís sleeping like a beautiful woman should be at 2:30am. Itís time to give up on the television (two hours before the morning shows begin and the rule of infomercial ends). Time for some reading, and maybe later finally sleeping.

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Highly Recommended: Let It Blurt: The Life and Times of Lester Bangs, America's Greatest Rock Critic Been a good while since Iíve read something truly inspiring. Also worth checking out is Al Burianís Burn Collector No. 12

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