i was killing some time at a record store today. most of the listening stations were busted (or they operate in a counter-intuitive way and my feeble mind couldn't figure it out). i did manage to listen to the new flaming lips album. i like the title: yoshimi battles the pink robots. the music is pretty good too. i wanted to listen to the beck album and bjork's greatest hits, but those machines weren't letting me preview the songs.

as i was browsing the book section, i came across a book about love-- or so i thought. i opened it up and read the "instructions". apparently you're supposed to think (hard) about a yes-or-no question regarding your love life while "stroking" the textured cover. then, you flip through the book (without peeking, i presume) and open the book to a "random" page where an answer awaits you. it pretty much operates like a 600-page, magic 8-ball. the "answers" to my questions included: "now is not the right time", "proceed with caution", and "giddyup!"-- whatever that means. all of love's answers, right at my fingertips... i had to tear myself away from the book. haha, riiiiight.

i picked up kurt cobain's diary and started from the beginning. reading about life in suburban washington state made me a little nostalgic. tacoma, olympia, aberdeen... it's so weird seeing kurt write about my old stomping ground. i only had a chance to read the first couple entries. i don't envy much about his early years: performing while knowing that everyone is constantly judging your every move, schmoozing with industry folks to try to sell your talent, working odd jobs to pay for gas to drive to shows. it made me wonder if i'll ever get to a point where i'm so passionate about something, that i'd be willing to put myself through whatever gets thrown at me. i mean, i just wish i had a purpose for doing whatever it is i'm doing. instead i'm just floating in a storm while my arms and legs are starting to cramp up. if i had any sense of direction, i'd start doggy-paddling.

drinking salt water sucks.