Journal of Pirate Lingo*


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* not an actual journal
of pirate lingo

18.07.01 - 6:39 p.m.

Please send me evenings and weekends
Please send me evenings and weekends
Please send me evenings and weekends
Please send me evenings and weekends

I think it's depressing that this whole journal can be summarized by one line from a Gang of Four song.

A. and I had sushi with her friend Mike. He has a crush on his friend who's a bassist for this pop band, so last Sunday he went to one of their shows and threw her a bouquet of flowers. Too bad her boyfriend is the band's lead guitarist.

I think a good name for a song would be "Mike Stop Throwing Flowers At My Girlfriend".

I went to a karaoke bar, with A. and Anne Marie & their friend Chris. Let me tell you, that boy can sing! I was flabbergasted. He crooned a medley of boy group ballads and he was hitting all the high notes. If I could sing like that I'd be at karaoke bars every night.

I felt lame for not getting up there myself, but there weren't any songs that I felt a passionate need to ruin. I should have looked for Gang of Four. Whoever owns their back catalog should get to work getting them into karaoke catalogs. (I borrowed 100 Flowers from A, that's why I'm on this G4 kick. I've heard them described as "angular". I also keep reading how their lyrics are supertheoretic critiques of consumer society, capitalism, etc. etc. but I'm too thick-headed to really pick up on this. Still, you have to love anyone who says "Love will get you like a case of anthrax / and that's something that I don't wanna catch")

For a moment I had this notion that the history of art is a series of simplifications, gang of four becomes rage against the machine becomes limp biskit. But I don't really believe that. Every five mins I have a blinding flash of insight that, one minute later, reveals itself to be a blinding flash of idiocy.

Chris & Tirza had a dinner party. They have the kind of marriage where it looks like they're dancing even when they're not. This graceful give & take in everything they do... it's beautiful. Maybe the tiniest bit disconcerting, but beautiful. They cooked lots of Indian food. And there were multiple cakes! People started passing joints around and the room slowly floated up. I didn't know anybody there except C, T and Shawn, but the night went on strangers became less strange. Conversations rippling, people kept getting up and switching chairs, moving in and out of the kitchen. Somebody was noodling on a mandolin, another guy found an outlet & plugged in the antique La-Z-Boy in the corner. When's the last time you saw a La-Z-Boy?! I had a great time.

C & T hid a vitamin c capsule in the cake. Whoever found it was supposed to get good luck. Carrie & Andy were splitting a piece & they found the capsule.

debate: if two people split it is it half as much luck? or is good luck like infinity and half of infinity is still infinity?

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