Your honor, if getting down is a crime, then lock me up and throw away the key!

It's been a while. Okay, busy month. Here are the talking points:

1. Spent a weekend in the studio and came out with three songs, one of which I'm happy with, two of which aren't mine. The spin? Bumbling neophyte throws slapdash song together out of spare parts, jams shards of My Bloody Valentine's Loveless beneath strings and screams really loud through vinyl and into pickups. One pint of whiskey later, pure fuzzed-out screamy Frankenstein demolishes studio. Frank takes nap and dreams about unsewing his own limbs until only a pile of skin, catgut, and Frankengut remains. Dreamful illogicity bypasses the practical difficulties of self-dissasembly (i.e. the ol' "When crucifying yourself, how do you pound the last nail into your own wrist?" problem - not as abstract as Russell's Paradox, but just as vexing). Frank's liberated consciousness drifts ever-upwards, until PB Shelley traps it like a firefly in a jar. It dies of neglect.

2. My good friend Nick visited from San Jose. It was fun, but also made me nostalgic, which is a feeling I hate. It's not your fault, Nick. Not your fault that my golden days are gone. Not ... your ... fault ... Oh God ... (Also, some guy in a bar asked Nick a question about me, referring to me as "[Nick's] Little Bald Friend," which, for an instant, made me see myself as a forest-dwelling dwarf. Like a psychotic David the Gnome.)

3. Last weekend I went to New York to visit Jessica and CUNY and the New School. Fun as always. Bobbed my head and did the Charleston at Hip-Hop Karaoke. Ate a cupcake. My favorite incident at the Whitney Biennial occurred after a screening of Francesco Vezzoli's "Trailer for a Remake of Gore Vidal's Caligula," which is, as you might guess, a trailer for a movie that doesn't exist. It's very tongue-in-cheek and very funny. While Jessica and I were leaving the screening room, some guy who had also just seen the film told a friend, "Don't bother. It's just a preview of Gore Vidal's Caligula," and without a hint of irony. So great.

4. Accepted admission at CUNY. In a continual gesture whose ramifications I don't want to contemplate, I habitually mispell CUNY as CUNT in IM conversations and emails.

5. It's my birthday this weekend. Up yours, 22!