4:50 pm | 19 June 2003 | on the table; divided attentions

I've already shared this particular bit of genius with Robin, but i thought you all might enjoy another example of my own personal brand of idiocy.

Delicti Fuscus: "Sorry it took me so long to call you back."
Claude: "That's okay."
Delicti Fuscus: (jokingly): "It's 'cos i hate you."
Claude: "I know."
Delicti Fuscus: "Just so that's on the table."
Claude: "I usually assume that people hate me. Like, it's always on the table, but i ignore it. Like, people's hatred of me is one of those crappy centerpieces at dirty diners, you know, like a plastic carnation in a vase, no, in an empty Tabasco bottle, and you know it's there but you sort of ignore it, because why bother looking at it."
Delicti Fuscus: "I'm a plastic carnation?"
Claude: "No, the hatred is. And the bottle it's in is not even washed that well, so it has, like, brown Tabasco crust around the neck of the bottle, and it's all dusty and shit, and...i have no idea where i'm going with this."
Delicti Fuscus: (nervous laughter)

You may have noticed a new addition to your left. I am moving all the poetry bullshit to Livejournal, not out of any loss of love for you, my crew of darling weirdos, but for a variety of other reasons (either social, or because i'm sure you want less poetry, more cursing). But never you fear. I will not neglect you. Vodka Catatonic, in all its inebriated splendour, will still offer you the finest in:
-Bitching, moaning, griping, and sundry complaints;
-Stories involving alcohol, mishaps, alcoholic mishaps, things gone wrong in the pursuit of alcohol, and, uh, more mishaps;
-Heartbreak;
-Shameless pandering;
-Strange and/or non-flattering photos, presented for comic relief;
-Meandering, verbose epithets meditating on the nature of the self, which is a fancy way of saying "i talk about me a lot";
-Lit crit, hatin' on the art scene, and a fashion unifecta (shout-out to UD, Gregor, and J.Ro here);
-Grammar, spelling, usage, and punctuation primers; and
-Periodic moans, shrieks, and wails, all addressing some variation of "What have i done to deserve such punishment O Lord."

So there. Don't go away. I'm not leavin' ya. I love you too much for that. clm.