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April 26, 1997, Saturday

Why men go bald: their heads are bigger than women's and they have proportionally less surface area to radiate the heat their brains produce. For some men an insulating carpet of hair can prove lethal.


obert did the night shift last night for Bn. He looked exhausted. I, on the other hand, was feeling pretty good because I'd gone to bed early and had remembered to drink lots of water.

If you take for granted your ability to comprehend satire, this page will be a real shocker, dashing any confidence you have that there is intelligent life on Earth.
I received yet another email for my Witchcraft flyer, and this initiated a many-email correspondence with someone who seemed to believe my claim that I once was turned into a groundhog by an evil spell. This dialogue inspired me to create a Witchraft Flyer feedback page. If you take for granted your ability to comprehend satire, this page will be a real shocker, dashing any confidence you have that there is intelligent life on Earth.

While doing my shift here at Comet, I snuck off barefooted through the sunny streets to Plan 9, where a 20% off sale was in full effect. A used CD by Slayer, Undisputed Attitude, cost only $5. I made the purchase and returned to Comet to listen. Morgan Anarchy had a copy of this CD in the days of Big Fun (soon after it came out in 1996), and it had ended up in my room in the Dynashack via Jessika's stereo. But I never really listened to it until now. It's a compilation of punk rock covers, all done with the energy and precision that Slayer is famous for. There's also some original songs, all done in the "speed punk" style. My feeling is that the songs are vastly improved by this process. You see, I don't like punk rock music very much, but I love Slayer. This CD is very fast and aggressive. It's full of straight forward reference to sex and violence, delivered so rapidly as to be matter-of-fact.

I would like to encourage everyone who read Elly's April 25th entry to visit the homepage of the male genius she so lovingly describes. It's so wonderful to see this man finally getting the acclaim he so richly deserves. I only wish Elly herself had bothered to include this link.

Monster Boy came by Comet and ended up spending the rest of the shift looking up obscure movies, checking and responding to email, and then hanging out in Nasty Chat, where, he complained, people mostly ask "is anyone here or am I the only one who is hungry for hair pie?"

Already I miss hearing the little snatches of Sly and the Family Stone.
After work, I stopped by Plan 9 to get another used CD, Metallica's Master of Puppets. The album, which came out in 1986, is virtually classic rock now. Metallica is so influential on all the musicians in modern rock today that buying this album is like buying The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper. I used to have Master of Puppets on an audio tape (recorded in 1989 over an old Sly and the Family Stone tape; you could hear Sly seeping through occasionally in the quieter parts). But since Master of Puppets is almost an hour long, I never became familiar with the last song on the album, "Damage Incorporated"; my tape ended halfway through the preceding song "Orion." When you flipped it over it had Metallica's Ride the Lightening on the other side. Now, though, I have all of Master of Puppets in crystal clear digital audio. Already I miss hearing the little snatches of Sly and the Family Stone.


he first time I heard Metallica in early 1989, I thought they were so machine-like as to require some sort of conductor. I couldn't imagine them being able to play their music live. "But is it even music?" I wondered. It was so strangely & intensely monotonous at times as to not be musical to my ear. But then the meter would change in some completely unexpected way. Trying to follow the flow became a fascination that drew me in and ultimately prepared me for things like Ministry. I have to say that I have never liked Metallica's noodling guitar solos, but I do like the tranquil classical guitar intros. Looking at the CD cover for Master of Puppets today, I was impressed by how basically cheesy the band was. Their idea of art was adolescent at best, as was their idea of stage presence. Despite being rebels against the conventions of their day, there is an obvious element of glam rock in their charisma. That the music itself far outran the conventions, in terms of lyrics, melody, pacing, and everything else, is a real achievement that will long be remembered by all who follow trends in western music.

What am I supposed to do, say, "Oh the poor little afro-american dears; they're afro-american and they can't help it."

s Monster Boy and I walked down Wertland on the way to the Dynashack, three preadolescent black boys coming up from the hood stopped us and asked to feel how sharp Monster Boy's spikes were. Then they proceded to ask if we were gay. This question was meant to be an insult, no doubt to show each other what kind of tough they were. My annoyed response was to wonder aloud if they still sucked on their mommies' titties. Well, there wasn't much they could do to escalate the encounter any further since there was no way in hell their scrawny little stick figure bodies were going to kick our asses. So as they continued on to the Corner, they hurled racist insults at us along with a pebble that missed. I'm impressed with the desire such kids have to make racial incidents out of chance street encounters. But I refuse to take shit from those awful little hooligans. To do so would be the most racist alternative. What am I supposed to do, say, "Oh the poor little afro-american dears; they're afro-american and they can't help it!"? If I treat them like real human beings maybe eventually they'll start acting like real human beings.

It was so nice not to have a hangover today, although my cold was bothering me. Still, I was damned if my condition was going to preclude a usual Saturday night. Friend of the Dynashack Will was at the Dynashack, and he was quizzing Monster Boy about the limits of his musical interests. Will is into Techno, you see, which has much in common with the Goth/Industrial music that Monster Boy likes. But, as it turns out, there is not much overlap between what Monster Boy likes and what Will likes. What little overlap there is was being emphasized by Will and being played on a nearby stereo. I sat and listened to the interview in a state of bemusement.


he evening was relatively warm by recent standards, but probably still cool for late April. It seemed like an evening for beer drinking. So Will drove Monster Boy, Elizabeth and me to the Barracks Road Kroger. On the way we passed many obviously drunk but smartly-dressed university students, their faces red from a day spent in the sun at the Foxfield horse races to the Northwest of town. Foxfield is a yearly ritual in Charlottesville. The streets clog with cars, everyone wears their Sunday best, and drinks until they can't walk or see straight. At the Kroger, the place was overrun with the Foxfield folks, some of them climbing into shopping carts and performing other acts they will no doubt live to regret.

Will thought it would be amusing to see a case of Milwauki's Beast Ice (the official beer of the Horrid Crash Pad) taken into the Dynashack. I thought so too, and bought one. I was only set back $8 by this purchase.

At the Dynashack, I drank my beer and hung out with Monster Boy and the housemates John and Steve. John was hungry for a burrito, and so was I, so together we headed to Two Moons on 14th Street and ordered our favourites (but of course, in strict observance of Murphy's Law, we found ourselves eating each others' burritos at first). John knew of a party at Elizabeth's old house on 13th Street, and he asked if I wanted to go. It was a party, so sure I wanted to go. The population was a little sparse at the party, though those running the party seemed to be having fun. They had two kegs, though, which was way more than they needed. This wasn't exactly Space Party II if you know what I mean. I did them the service of calling back to the Dynashack and inviting Elizabeth, Will and Monster Boy over. Monster Boy knew right away that he wasn't happy at this party (I mean, it wasn't exactly Goth/Industrial music that was blaring from the stereo). So he departed. I felt really drunk for some reason, but that did nothing to keep me from being bored. So I snuck off unannounced. I always feel uncomfortable with the ritual of making up excuses for why I want to leave a boring party.


n the way home, I came to the new cyclone fence that divides the Wertland Community from the 13th street community. Both communities are basically the same socio-economic group comprised of:

I was infuriated at the fence; in my state it was a serious affront to the "freedom to fraternize," as serious as the Berlin Wall.
I was infuriated at the fence; in my state it was a serious affront to the "freedom to fraternize," as serious as the Berlin Wall. I lashed out and deconstructed it as best as my bare hands could. I also noted what tools I will need to cause it far more serious damage. When such damage is inflicted, don't expect to read about it in here!

I stopped by the Horrid Crash Pad briefly, but the usual ongoing sausage party was taking place, and I didn't want to get stuck with talking to Tad, so I escaped via the back porch and went to Goth Central, a place I have not visited in awhile.

There I found Monster Boy, Persad, Persad's childhood friend Hobi, as well as a number of other boys. Yes: Goth Central was throwing a sausage party of their own. I mouthed the words "sausage party" to Monster Boy and he nodded his head in agreement. I was not there long before Persad closed up the house to do other things. Monster Boy and I returned to the Dynashack.

We were soon joined by the other Dynashacksters who had been to the 13th Street party. Elizabeth had sliced open her hand trying to climb over the Berlin Wall. She'd been handicapped by the fact that she was wearing a dress. My resolve to SMASH the WERTLAND WALL was now cast in iron.


he Amy who works at the Tokyo Rose came by, as did coworker Bn and Cecelia the Brazilian Girl. Amy frequently brings little presents. Today it was some kind of cake and a huge tub of whipped cream, along with a Silver Jews/New Radiant Storm Kings 7 inch. I have no way to play it though; my turntable has no needle. For some unfathomable reason, Amy had expressed interest in going to the Horrid Crash Pad, and tonight was her big chance to do so. I wanted Elizabeth to go to the Horrid Crash Pad too (imagine the accolades I'd get for bringing three girls over there!). But Elizabeth, unlike Amy, isn't interested even slightly in the sociology of Horrid Crash Pad culture. Bn isn't much interested in the Horrid Crash Pad either.

So Monster Boy, Cecelia the Brazilian Girl, Amy and I went to the Horrid Crash Pad. This had the effect of increasing the female population of the Horrid Crash Pad 200%. Monster Boy didn't last long; his face took on a very bored expression and soon he made his exit. Cecelia, on the other hand, looked like she was having big fun drinking the booze the Crashpadians were fixing for her.

Meanwhile I chatted exclusively with Amy about the Crash Pad culture. I don't recall much of this conversation, since by this point I was very drunk. After the pot made its rounds, I was also stoned. Amy didn't smoke any pot, but she was willing to drink a glass of Spiced Rum and Coke I fixed her. She claims she doesn't drink beer, see.

I was actually rather pleased though; as expected, taking a new girl to the Horrid Crash Pad had "really shaken things up."
Eventually Amy grew bored and took her leave as well. What followed then was my being quizzed about the new girl by both the Native American Odyssey Guy and Austin (Jenfariello's one time boyfriend). Austin wanted to know was she my girlfriend. "No," I said. Was she going to be my girlfriend? "No, " I said. He referred to her later with the adjecto-noun "cutie." I could tell that for them the fact that she'd "abandoned" me was something I should take for a personal defeat. I was actually rather pleased though; as expected, taking a new girl to the Horrid Crash Pad had "really shaken things up."

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