having been foiled in latest (third) attempt to catch LCD Soundsystem (the venue having sold more tix than they had room, thereby voiding the guestlist) i spent friday nite alone, drunk, mostly not watching teevee.
rose at sevenish, mainlined three cups coffee and nailed the fifth and final draft of 'the no answer machine', the last microstory in my collection 'righteous exile'. it is completely fucking sociopathic and awful. i like it a lot.
sent away the play yesterday. sixteen theatres. thirty-five pounds. that's a lot of ouch for a long wait and no reward. oh, and my latest suggested name for projected brighton lifestyle mag: 'VALHALLA'.