WHAT SHALL I PACK?

I’m almost awake. It’s taken six and a half days and a trip to the doctor. I hurt my back sitting with terrible posture on a hard bed for 10 days in Minneapolis writing on my laptop. Everything they say about posture is true, so let my dumb body be a lesson to yours – you WILL have to go to the hospital if you don’t start thinking about it. I got off light with some stretches and some prescription mega-propfen, but it’s not fuckin’ worth it man…

I just packed my outfit for the New Pornographers west coast tour which starts next week. I don’t dress-and-tell so I’ll just say this: it’s about time that I start dressing more like Bryan Ferry. Duh, Neko. I dyed my hair back to red and it’s like I could hear my bossier, funner inner voice all the sudden. Where have I been? WHERE THE FUCK HAVE I BEEN?! Well, I haven’t had a proper home for so, so long. I guess my spirit needs “place” to attach? (I’ll keep that in mind if I plan to haunt anyone post-mort.) The contractors frittering away my loan into a seventh year will regret my reemergence, but they can’t possibly regret it more than me. 

Have you ever disappeared from your own life for an extended period of time? Did you recognize yourself when you reappeared? Are you still missing?

This is what happens. You sit like an amoeba for 10 days your arms fly off.