Existential Crisis in a Footnote

Have you noticed that it's Existential Crisis Month? Buy your own Existential Crisis flowers/booze/uppers/downers/brunch?

Everyone I know is on edge, for one monumental reason or another, including myself, (being the common denominator). Which is even more harrowing because I'd rather carry the weight than be mine own.

Creation, destruction. Destruction, creation. Or not. It's really shittysweet and altogether romanticized. Like Space. Its supposed to be this large void with purpose and potential...but really, its a large void. Nothing. And yet everything.

Yeah...toldya!

Dinner on the last night: pastrami & bacon w/ cheddar, lettuce, tomato, mayo, and Boar's Head Deli Dressing on a fancy roll...it's a deli sangwich and I did it myself!

Currently listening to: Throw Me The Statue's "Yucatan Gold."

Currently awaiting: Farady's comeuppance and LC's demise.

Wearing: gray pinstripe slacks, periwinkle blue button-up, my favourite Hugo Boss skinny tie, black grandpa cardigan, and my ol' faithful brown wingtips.

Avoiding: work until 7pm.

Spring has sprang...

The birds are alive with chitter-chatter, the flowers are blossoming onions, the days are partyly cloudy and musty with with the damp hints of summer and winter...oh, and the kids are fucking annoying.

That means its Springtime, y'all!

Therefore and thusly, is it ok to wear flip-flops with a cardigan?

I say yes. Yes indeed.

Whilst I wait around for some fellow sans-homebodys today to hit up the local flea markets and stoop sales, I download some musics.

Any suggestiones?

You can take the gay man out of gay porn,...

but you can't take him out of the theatre...

And in other semi-gay (haha, semi) news: to quell an old argument of mine, fall shows are far superior to spring shows...