5/2 Adios, Les

Lester Bangs, the greatest rock critic of all time and self-appointed "Last of the White Niggers" died 25 years and two days ago. Someone named Adam wrote the greatest open letter in the world to him. (Note: this was not written by yours truly. The author is most certainly British, and on a more personal note, I would stab a baby in the face to be able to write this well.)


For my part, I spent at least two hours today working on The Old Cartoon Writer, and it's coming together fairly well. I see no reason why I shouldn't be able to get a shitty first draft finished tomorrow and hopefully get the ball rolling on another story. Dropped by The British with Martina after class for "a" drink and left 3 hours later fairly soused. Still no alcohol around these parts so that had to do, and it did quite nicely, though the combination of Cooper's Lager and pasta succeeded in putting me down for a post-dinner nap. Now I'll be up forever scratching my arse and listening to Ben Kweller and Casiotone For The Painfully Alone (Also: The Mathletes). If you hadn't noticed, the cute link on the left entitled 'What I'm Listening To' leads to my last.fm page, which keeps track of what I listened to 5 minutes ago, all last week, and basically the entire past year. You know, in case you give a good god damn.

Drink Count: 3

Easter Pictures the customary few weeks late. First, our breakfast feast and handsome (blinking) host in black:


Then our magical treasure hunt of happiness through the rose garden: