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I've had Alice in Chains' "Bleed the Freak" in my head for about a week. I actually like the song, but a week of any song in your head will drive you nuts. At least it's not something totally inane like "Unskinny Bop." I had that in my head once and thought I was going to have to swallow a shotgun.

Uh oh.

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Wow. I'm almost positive that I've seen this girl.



Postcards from the edge (gotta register for NY Times, of course)

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Last night I dreamed that I was taking a train to London for a concert. Ummm, yeah. And right after we left the station I realized that I didn't have my passport (not that it would have done any good; it expired probably fifteen years ago). And I was supposed to be at work anyway. But then I noticed a couple of girls I used to work with, and we had a fun time making fun of some old dude who was loudly singing along with whatever crap R&B song that was playing on his headphones.

That makes me think of this time that Pat H. was at work singing a song that she'd written. It was the most horrible crap I'd ever heard--some kind of maudlin nonsense about living your hopes and dreams, following your heart, and finding true love. And to make it even worse, she had a terrible singing voice. It was rather like the early rounds of American Idol, where it's so bad you just want to cry for the person singing--and for yourself for listening to it. So right in the middle of her baring her soul, I busted into my best Biz Markie:

Oh, baby, YOU, you got what I NEEE-EEED, but you say I'm just a friend, but you say I'm just a friend, OH BA-BY, YOU . . .

Yeah, that was pretty rude, but she took it in the right spirit. Thank goodness--she coulda body-slammed the fuck out of me.

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I'm finally coming out from under this sinus madness. I think I might even be on my way toward a somewhat regular sleep schedule. Now my ears are starting to pop, though. I hope whatever's been wrong with my head doesn't settle in my ears. I had that happen in the spring of '99 and ended up with a earache that lasted a couple of weeks and developed into a headache that lasted another several weeks. I thought I was going to freak.

/waaah

I'm looking forward to checking out some of the stuff at the Arts & Ideas Festival that's going on in town right now. At the very least it'll be nice to go out to the Green at lunch, eat pizza, and hear live music. I hope the weather cooperates; it's been so overcast and rainy lately. Last year it was so nice.

Did manage to get the apartment in better shape this weekend. I still have a lot of media organizing to do, but that's an ongoing project. Fuggin' CDs and videotapes everywhere. Been doing a lot of burning and dubbing lately.

I'm going to choke the mess out of my landlord. In general, my building isn't bad, but the laundry room is always in disrepair. If it's not a washer it's a dryer. If it's not the dryer it's the overhead light. If it's not the light it's no freaking hot water. How are you supposed to get clothes clean with cold water? I washed my sheets this weekend and the nastiness on the pillow covers from being sick didn't even come out. (Sorry, that's gross, I know--how do you think I feel?). I should take them over to ol' Leonard and shove 'em in his ugly face. "Ya see this, Leo? Your ghetto-ass washing machines won't even get out my pathetic little snot blotches!" And then my ancestors will spit on his haircut.

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I always forget that Karen Black is in Rubin and Ed. She's weird, but I dig her. I sometimes get her mixed up with Mary Woronov from Rock 'n' Roll High School and Eating Raoul. I actually saw Karen Black in New York last year in The Vaginia Monologues, and she was fan-freaking-tastic. She did a scene where she acts out all the different kind of orgasms a woman can have. She had me laughing so hard that I thought I was going to have to get up and leave. It hurt that much. My sides hurt so much that I was twisting and squirming in my seat like a madman--and of course there was my mom sitting next to me doing the same thing. She's cool like that.

Oh, speaking of Eating Raoul, one time in about 1988, Whitesnake and Great White played Humphrey Coliseum in Starkville. Now, I was no great fan of either band, but I was so starved for live rock that I went. (Whaddya want? I was 16 and lived in a small town in Mississippi. I also saw Bon Jovi and Cinderella the year before. Get over it.) Anyway, the day before the concert, Rudy Sarzo and Adrian Vandenberg from Whitesnake did an appearance at Backstage Music in Columbus. So, again, since we had nothing better to do, we went. Besides, we thought Rudy was pretty cool--hell, he played with Ozzy and Randy Rhoads. That's pretty badass. So Tom, Kirk (Vicious Hell Bastard), Wes (Vile Fiend), and I got up to the table there and started talking shit to them. I looked Rudy right in the eye and said, "Look, buddy, we're the big band around here. We're Dry Heave, man!" (Never mind that our biggest gig was Fred Brown's house party.) Rudy looked at me, laughed, and said, "Dry Heave?!? What, is that like Ralph from Eating Raoul?" (That's what it sounded like, anyway. I've never known exactly what he was talking about, because I don't think there's a character named Ralph in Eating Raoul.)

And on the whole Rudy Sarzo/Ozzy Osbourne/Randy Rhoads thing, did you know that Ozzy recently re-recorded the bass and drum tracks for Diary of a Madman and Blizzard of Ozz? He had his current drummer and the dude who just joined Metallica do them. That's just blasphemous. Those were great albums. It's wrong to go back and tinker with them over some old bullshit.

I'm Chris. I'm a Metal God™.

Oh, and I'm aware that I'm posting like crazy lately. It happens sometimes. It'll pass.