when chickenheads come home to roost

okay, this is really disturbing to me, a man in a chicken suit just waiting for you to ask him to do the moonwalk.

am back at home after a wonderful, exhausting emp. too much to do to really write the whole thing now, but i was so overwhelmed and excited that saturday, the night i wrote the previous blog entry, i fell into a late night funk re: why can't it always be so honest, experimental, full of comraderie, etc. went out to lunch with tim quirk, who has become my A1 EMP Jillian's drinking bro, the next day, and he too felt the fog, though he wasn't willing to speculate from whence it came.

now i'm back in proviland, wanting to hear waltz #2 by elliot smith and listening j. cash/j.strummer doing 'redemption song,' which has that sort of fake upbeat spanish guitar over the college dropout strums, still made good with harmonium or something -- the power of personality to take you beyond your usual, to listen to something slightly absurd.