Last night I dreamt that Bill Murray killed himself and nobody cared. *

You can watch a video of The Hand That Feeds on NIN.com, if you'd like. I say "a" video and not "the" video, because I'm not 100% sure that this is going to be the final version. It looks like they more or less filmed a live band performing the song in their practice space. While that's not usually up to Trent's standards, perhaps he's come to terms with the fact that there's not much room in the world of music for videos from rock bands? Ya know, no bling-bling or booties shakin'...

I kinda dig the song, though. He changes his vocal melody at the end into something that sounds unintentionally bad... but it's at least left me curious about hearing the rest of the record. *

Since today is shaping up to be a lazy Saturday filled with missing day's past, let's play the "What was Chris doing on (or around) this date years back?" game. From ye blogges of olde:

3.6.00: I somehow managed to sleep for roughly 14.5 hours last night... i don't think i have ever done this before. At around 9:30PM i hopped onto my bed to relax and watch TV. The next thing i remember is waking up in my clothes and looking at my clock and seeing 1:30 AM. I quickly changed into my pajama's, washed my face and hopped into bed. In what seemed like only minutes, my alarm went off for 12:00 noon. I honestly have no idea how i managed to so this...i had a nice, sober sleep the day before, and didn't do a goddamn active thing all day.

3.24.01: Winter seems to be fading, as well as the bitterness that so often embodies that ever-lagging season. My bones are warm and my bedroom is clean. This weekend has been a mixed bag of all things good. My roomate was gone for the weekend so there was privacy, which was incredible. Everything is A-Alright!

3.25.02: All this week I will be blessed with visitors from the fine town of Wayne, New Jersey. My apartment will be their makeshift motel for the week, while I sit at work and well... sit at work. I will live vicariously through their daily adventures as they re-tell them to me in the evenings. They arrived early yesterday, and without much delay, bottles of Bud Light were being emptied left and right in a fairly speedy fashion. When the fridge ran dry, we walked over to Chili's (why aren't any REAL bars open on Sunday's in Georgia?) and proceeded to empty more bottles, shot glasses, and full-sized glasses of a wide array of adult beverages. It was Paul's 21st birthday, after all, which justifies forcing him to drink things with names like "three wise-men", "surfer on acid", and an "el presidente", right?

Before the binge-a-thon began yesterday, I managed to pick up "The Mezzanine" by Nicholson Baker. I've heard it's a sort of "Infinite Jest"-Lite and perfect for the run of the mill obsessive compulsive. Although not quite as much as I when I was younger, I am indeed obsessive-compulsive, and most certainly run of the mill. Flipping through the pages I see footnotes that go on for pages on end... let the insanity begin! I'll let you know how it goes...

2003: Apparently I wasn't updating during March of 2003, although I remember doing so. I was living in Cleveland at the time.

3.22.04: Last night I dreamt that I was record shopping at The Sound Exchange, a record store I grew up frequenting. There were new owners, not the guys that at my tender young age of 13 would correctly insist that I'd be better off picking up records by Pop Will Eat Itself, Pigface, and Fugazi instead of whatever other crap I was probably buying at the time. I went to the register to pick up my copy of the Iron & Wine album and had an altercation with the gentleman ringing me up about the amount I gave him, the cost of the album, and the disparity between them and the amount of change he gave me.. I ended up leaving the store without the album, claiming that I would never listen to music ever again.

Sorry, I just wanted to see if that dream was just as fucking stupid written down as it was in my head. Turns out it was. *

Yesterday I drank my balls off. I'm talking non-stop from like 10:30AM until about 7 at night. I suppose that's par for the course in South Boston on the day of their big St Patty's parade... however, the fact that I was on the clock made it quite interesting. Four of us were DJing a bar on the parade route. The initial gig-time was 12-2, but the owner offered us $250 cash, on top of our (shitty) hourly wage if we stayed until 5. As much as I get annoyed with my part-time job for eating away at my precious and few college weekends... playing rock music for five hours, getting shitey with a bunch of Irish cops for free, and making about $200 ain't a half-bad way to spend a Sunday. *

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Longest.Post.Ever.