JRussell's BlogNO!!!!

long awaited Fraiser Boxset

Two JRussells?

What the fuck else could you want?

The Kids & Their Kicks

"Ey man"
- "well hey"
"what's up man?"
- "not much man"
"That's right, there ain't shit"
- "yeah, I don't really care that much"
"huh"
- "I'm saying it doesn't really matter that fucking much to me. Like I've heard heard stains and drips of there's a party there, X might have something but wants to keep it small""
"really?"
- "yeah, i don't give a fuck"
"so youre not doing anything tonight"
- "nope."

(The conversation ended there, I guess I was of no use.)

And so goes the arbitrary "friendships" between one loser in public school and a different type of loser from the private school, we both leech of one another hoping to break the news to our respective circle of friends where there's an unguarded site where can all get real fucked up, ya'know because, us loser types would have no knowledge of a sexlife if it wasn't for alcohol, just don't work any other way, I mean, the slackers told me that "wisdom was a liquor store" and I've always bended that to various assumptions of one kind or another to explain why I'm a fuck up and so on, why my whole life is a lame fucking joke, or at least I pretend to, ya' know, so this all kind of makes sense. So when truth is smudged in my eye like it was kid fucking around in photoshop, and I try to lie back alone on a couch the way all the cool lonely chaps do on the telly, and it doesn't work out, because the pants don't ride right because they're too big which makes sense because they're not mine, they were my dad's at one point, but I can't stand the feeling of new denim, so I wear worn in denim because it's more comfortable, but it looks like I shit, because of that I don't give myself the vibe I want in my moment alone to make it seem more profound if someone was to see it, say my mother or sister coming downstairs to sew socks or whatever the fuck they do, and they see me there posed, looking so fucking aweseome and alone, sowhere between a Morrisey cover and John Belushi's coke bloated dead corpse, and they'd go oh man "You're in to collge, congradulations, let's eat Lebanese, oh man, that moment of defiaintly proud solitude, that was great, yrsobrilliant, but it's not that easy and it would be shit if it was, which isn't the point. I don't want to read this ever again. I don't want to keep writing. i'm going to sleep. Party on. I dunno, someplace in Maryland, how big could maryland be, isn't it just bethesda, baltimore, farms and beaches? Shut up, isn't prositution legal there, no, nevermind, I just thought that if crabs were the big industry that maybe, yeah it sucks, but there's a time for cheap thoughtless bullshit. Yeah why can't I rock up a girl, like all the shit the sounds cool when Jamaicans say it. There's no noun to substitute for the noises being made.

It's no safari these days

So today was the first day back at Woodrow Wilson Senior High School from the collective magnificent winter break. Kids clustered into small groups and shared stories, many of which began with a sigh (of champions) and a phrase not varying much from “I was so fucked up”. Pretty much everyone had their own stories, and once the first generation of stories were absorbed in to the tired minds by 10, 10:30, the second generation of stories based around “I heard that you . . .” began, which is a necessary mortar to complete stories that happened to the intoxicated. In some cases, these filler conversations become clues that “yeah, it could happen to anyone, it’s just coincidence” or “she didn’t remember one bit, I guess she doesn’t care, the razors sure hurt when they’re rusty and greasy, wait this isn’t one of them poetic straight razors, this one of those stale Chinese soup noodles”. But that doesn’t bother me, that’s part of youthful trivialness and reflection and one of things that inspires American Pie/Deer Hunter-style pacts, it’s all good, and this being my first New Year’s out with the kids, it was the best ‘eve by far by default. But everyone has a story, blah blah blah, twenty one short films and so on.

I walked down the corridor at Wilson at lunch today, I needed something to do while I tried to open my pack of peanut-butter crackers, got claustrophobic in Dahlgren’s room, Taco Bell meal was giving me an eye twitch or something, had to walk around, pretend that affects my metabolism. Today was a dreary, blue-gray, cloudy miserable today, I guess it was raining some, no serious rain but just enough to keep the kids inside, so all the kids were inside, still clustered in conversations, some holding hands, all somehow sheltering themselves into social hives scattered through the hallway, with a winding middle path wide enough for the dirty loners to mindless wedge through without any real destination. So I’m looking around at all these kids and I realize that today, the day back from break is the pinnacle moment of materialism at the school, throughout the entire year. All these fucks in the hall, standing around, posing and talking about liquor and lust, they’re all wearing their new outfits, everything is the colors they’re supposed to be, shoes are clean and surprisingly bright, hair is clean and shiny with apparently healthy appearance, the kids are making their tries at gel and fashionable sweaters with bullshit slogans and there’s a new douche bag looking like a douche bag in a leather jacket. Not that all people who wear leather jackets are douche bags, some people pull it off quite well, but leather jackets are quite pass or fail, and plenty of kids sink to the bottom and getting sodomized by whatever creatures dwell at the bottom of the Potomac river, I figure it’s mostly dead crew kids and the occasional Georgetown Harbor type who fell in to his motor, turned his face in to hamburger, his friends were too sauced on rail drinks to help him, plus Hawaiian shirts were made to get wet. But these fucking kids at school, it was just overkill on bright dyes and plastic accessories and these kids with their fresh stickers, and they’re fucking wearing their stickers, how fucking wasteful, like that sticker is done once it’s on that shirt, the adhesive has attached it’s life, it’s soul to the fibers on that t-shirt, and you tear it off hoping to reuse yr fucking “rock’n’roll” sticker and you can’t, you wasteful fucks. Kids in couples and cliques, smiles and embraces, it’s like they’re all in the vending machine and I gotta choose a letter and number, I gotta remember that 10 is it’s own button not a combination of the 1 button and the occasional Zero button. There’s the kids and maybe I could buy in, get attached, but then again, Wilson is a dead fucking scene. Like there’s nothing to gain here, why even bother being a commodity, sure you can dress to impress, but who the fuck are you trying to impress, I guess I just don’t get the brand name thing or the ‘leave the hologram on the baseball’ hat thing, or the ‘everyone’s wearing the same pair of fucking pants with Negro-league team patches on them’, THE EXACT SAME FUCKING PAIR. So maybe I’m prone to the thrift store whore look, and that’s because a lame insecure scenester fuck, but one just makes a lot more sense to me, part of it is that an ugly dude just can’t get in to it all, the sense of high fashion, for some reason, not being attractive I can’t manage to see where all the money goes, or in fact where it comes from. It’s a world I don’t know about, and I don’t really care, I mean some outfits look good, but it’s high school, high school is shit, JRussell is shit. It’s all become an ugly motherfucker, I’m still baiting father time, impotent douche bag. In the mean time, download ‘Slip it in/gimme gimme gimme’, it’s so worth your time.

dance, dance, posi-motherfucker

I just want to say the word motherfucker.

I guess I want to dance.

I just didn't want to have a blank entry.

I wrote a thing about the delusions of a new year, along with an analogy about potato chip bags, that led in to how I plan to paint this new year positive.

Gotta learn to not look like a douche when I smile.

One thing is for sure, I'll be steamin' a lot this year.
Sure makes life easier.

Can't just say "No"

Man, this is so incoherent. I'd rather be Watching TV.