On paper

 Say what you want about how he ended up, but Jack White used to shred. It's been a while, but I bet he still can, when he's not busy inventing crappy supergroups. This Captain Beefheart cover has always been a dirty favorite and I bring it out whenever I'm feeling like I need to shake it all off and just fucking howl for a while. It's like that now. I will convince you all and myself that I do not give a microfuck. Watch me.

I stopped sleeping again, so everything seems the weirdest. I don't know why this happens. Cursed fretting. I wish I could be more selective about when I stay up all night in knots about things, mostly about things that are not my problem, my fault or my business. The upside is that the psychedelic state my poor fatigued brain is in has made it lots easier to write songs for this new thing that is starting to come together. It is going to be so awesome. I can't wait to be able to tell everyone about it.

I guess this insomnia is going to be good practice for SXSW next week. There will be no sleeping. There will be tacos, there will be The Best Wurst, there will be an open bar at our hotel every single day (seriously, that's how Texas does happy hour) there will be sweaty dirty savage little rock & roll monsters roaring around in the streets and I am going to roar with them and I am not going to worry about one single thing. Take that, adult life.

Speaking of roaring monsters, I am pretty excited about High on Fire's new banger. Everyone should go listen to it right now. Except Anna Coe. Anna, this is not for you. Everyone else, stream it here.

I don't feel like writing so here are some photos of things that I am looking at:

I think Karl Lagerfeld is a twat, but then look at the jewel encrusted cuff, the gold and amethyst breastplate and that clutch (!!!) that he just showed! God. I'm dying. This is from the Chanel RTW FW 2012 show, in case anyone cares. Accessories! (re: the above link, I don't care about Adele, just to be clear).

 I have to perform at this 1920s Prohibition themed party at some place called Suede Lounge tonight for Yelp and I have been scouring the internet for ways to make my ass-length scruffy mop do this:

So far, no luck. What a disaster! I hate sucking at period costumes.

Obviously I need this bag in order to have a fulfilled life:

(It's by Vlieger & Vandam) 

Whatever. This post is dumb. Sorry! I need a nap!
xo!