Fresh off the recent publishing of Not Bukowski, Brian is at it again, this time releasing chapters of a possible new book called Dear Dairy – not a typo.
Ever keep a diary or a journal? Yeah, Brian neither.
So why not start now?
Follow along as Brian delves into…well…whatever it is that he delves into.
Ever get a song stuck in your head for no reason? Oh yeah, you don’t have a head. You are just a journal… but this peculiar thing happens a lot to humans.
I woke up this morning with The Waitresses’ I Know What Boys Like stuck in my craw.
I haven’t heard this song in forever. There was no reason for it to suddenly appear.
I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I hadn’t thought about that song since the ’80s. I didn’t go to a restaurant with a waitstaff yesterday…
I see them looking
I make them want me
Arrrgh! The brutal part is that the song followed me to the grocery store. Worse. I am a chronic whistler (Hey! Shut up. I am over 50 and I can annoy the general public as I see fit!).
People looked at me as I grabbed my pesto and some sausage.
I got my cat moves
That so upset them
A good friend once said just sing a bit of A Kind of Hush and it will knock any other song from your brain.
There’s a kind of hush all over the world tonight
All over the world you can hear the sounds of lovers in love
Of course, now that is stuck in my head, Diary. I need a song to knock that one out. What’s that, Diary? What do you say?
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me
P.S. Is “The Loose Stool Pigeons” a good band name?
I am wearing slippers tonight. It’s funny to me. They have treads on the bottom. There is no way I can slip. I tried. I fell forward and now I have a broken tooth. My dog calls me “Chippy.”
So if they are slippers that don’t slip, why are they called slippers and not Stoppers?
Actually, my feet are way too warm in them. They should be called Sweaters.
Of course, duh, I know. Sweaters already are called Sweaters. But what if we changed their name? What if we called them Itchies?
Yeah. They aren’t itchy if you wear an undershirt.
What if you only wear an undershirt? It’s not really under anything anymore. It’s kinda just a shirt.
Fuck. I am going to bed.
What do you think about neck tattoos?
Seriously, I am pretty sure we agree on head and face tattoos. You can’t escape prison without getting caught with those.
But neck tattoos? Meh. Life has shown me that the neck gets flabby. I have aunts that should be beheaded at Thanksgiving because of that wobbly fat. Eww. Your tat is going stretchy there. What if over time you go from skull and bones to that shit looking like skull and clitoris. Damn interesting Radiohead song title but…
Wear a turtleneck I say but then over time those annoy your neck. It’s like a weak Radiohead guy (aren’t they all?haha) choking you.
I prefer mock turtlenecks. They haven’t truly decided on a career they could be a turtleneck or later take over Uncle Larry’s Latex Dildo company.
I watched Austin City Limits today. That’s weird because when I think of City limits I don’t expect to see the City. Yet on Austin City Limits the city is almost right behind the stage. Then again, the show is filmed indoors, so those are some pretty non-reflective, and clean windows…indoors…that magnify the city to make it look closer. It’s like the opposite of your car’s passenger side mirror.
Radiohead was the band. I don’t get their popularity. They make noise and jazz and hipster, rock guitar stuff and mix it with words about human guilt and participation trophies. The supposed lead singer does nice justice to man-buns (the hair type, not the ass-type) but moves around like i do when my heart may require another stent.
He’s a weirdo. He’s a loser. The karma police are coming after him.
Whatever. Kharma is a bitch or something.
He spells his name with extra letters.
Thom Yorke. That’s needy. No need for the h or the e. I called out an efficiency expert named Lloyd once at a job.
Hey. Buddy. One “L” is more efficient.
It’s like the word “phlegm.”
Woah. Too many letters unless you are trying to make it sound like me coughing it up while being anally raped by a bull seal.
Can I call you that? Is that okay? I mean you probably didn’t set out to be a diary. You are just paper with lines on it the people can write on. I just am going to use for diary but if you prefer another name, let me know at some point. Hell, maybe you want to be called Pete.
Did you have a choice in how you were bound? Wow. That makes it seem sexual and all 50 Shady but you know what I mean already. I can tell. We have a bond that binds us.
See what I did there? But seriously, are you okay with the glue and stuff for a spine? The spiral thing would have been cool but I don’t see you as much of the notebook type. Besides, I would have stuck my pen in there just as storage. That would feel weird.
I guess while we are on the subject of greetings, it’s probably cool I am not dyslexic. Because then you would be a dairy.
I need eggs.