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Saturday, June 25, 2005
So I punched myself in the face last night....and then I got called a terrorist
No it wasn't on purpose. I'm sitting there, reading over something i wrote with my cheek resting on my fist, when all of a sudden a moth flies into my window and flies straight into my forehead with an audible *thwack*. Now, don't ask me why, but insects scare the piss out of me. I've poked rattlesnakes with sticks, teased Patas monkeys with 4" long canines, gone crab fishing with my bare hands, but put a flying insect in the room with me and you'll see me do an award-winning performance of Krumping while I try to flee a butterfly with a 3" wingspan. So anyway, insect, forehead, I start flailing. The hand my head's resting on shoots straight up into the air, connecting with my nose on the way up. At least the boxing classes paid off, it was a clean uppercut...just about a foot too close in.
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To make matters worse, today I'm stumping around Camden High Street, looking for a cheap belt since my ass appears to have evaporated away and my pants keep falling down, and I'm already in a bad mood cuz i'm surrounded by a mass of humanity. This guy in an orange robe and a Hare Krishna sign calls me over. God I love the people all over London pestering you for handouts. "Are you a tourist or a terrorist?" I'm dumbfounded, "say again?" He repeats it. I let it soak in for a second, and then I scream "I'm a FUCKING HINDU you retard. You know, the real kind. Not some stupid fake cultist with even stupider chants!!" I wasn't able to find a belt either, so I walked through half of london holding my pants up with a thumb through my belt loop.
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But then I get a good phonecall. Four years after I stop playing instruments/singing with any regularity, I get my first paycheck as a musician. 120 dollars. Some dude's gonna stick my head in an fMRI coil and make me listen to music. I'm excited.
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To make matters worse, today I'm stumping around Camden High Street, looking for a cheap belt since my ass appears to have evaporated away and my pants keep falling down, and I'm already in a bad mood cuz i'm surrounded by a mass of humanity. This guy in an orange robe and a Hare Krishna sign calls me over. God I love the people all over London pestering you for handouts. "Are you a tourist or a terrorist?" I'm dumbfounded, "say again?" He repeats it. I let it soak in for a second, and then I scream "I'm a FUCKING HINDU you retard. You know, the real kind. Not some stupid fake cultist with even stupider chants!!" I wasn't able to find a belt either, so I walked through half of london holding my pants up with a thumb through my belt loop.
----
But then I get a good phonecall. Four years after I stop playing instruments/singing with any regularity, I get my first paycheck as a musician. 120 dollars. Some dude's gonna stick my head in an fMRI coil and make me listen to music. I'm excited.
