This is where dreams go to die [entries|friends|calendar] morningstar 76 coffeehouse & den of sin [ website | MS76.com ] [ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ] [ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

LAST CALL FOR VITRIOL. [25 Feb 2006|11:12am] [ music | Go Home Productions ] Well, folks, the time is now (in the words of Causey St. Causey). It's my very last day, after 4.5 years here at Ye Olde 76. 9am-9pm. Cheap drinks, good tunes and goodbye. After this i'm pulling my best Keyser Soze, so if'n you want to come say adieu, now would be the appropriate time. I warn you, i'm unshowered, on very little sleep and don't really care about the quality of your latte, but it would be nice to see you before i go. Stop on in. Tip me. After all, i'll be unemployed tomorrow. ;) -j. ps: thanks, eh? it's been real, and it's been fun, and miraculously enough it was even real fun for a hot minute there. couldn't have done it without you, and even if that's a lie, i wouldn't have wanted to. fuck this coffee business. i'm going into oil. For all of you anti-Morningstar 76 folk, we're gone. Clap your hands say yeah. 14 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

"Because i'm the God damned... pater familius, that's why." [04 Feb 2006|03:00pm] [ music | iPod on shuffle at MS76. ] I had all of these amusing quips and quotes, and another National City installment all planned out, but i'm in such a shit mood and stuck at work when i should be straightening out my life that i decided to forgo them all in favor of this: "There are hatchet homes for howling souls Where the gravel slides right off the roads And the sun don't shine it only scolds Electricity jumps from pole to pole You wake up there and your hearts a mess You've got to get what's eating you off your chest For even a ghost could use some rest From never-ending terror You've got skeletons spilling out of your drawers And your tongue's swollen from biting down so hard You say it aint true but you know that you are The one they're all spilling for So you run as if you could slice through the air Then you turn to see the past is still right there And she's running her fingers through the waves in your hair Whispering 'go ahead and try and escape me' You've got to get wise to your size 'cause you're crawling Can't quite call them blue skies at all my friend And the sun will rise or set With your hope or regret So how come you whisper why not let out a scream? Why open the road when you can float on a stream? You've got to go down in the dirt if you want to come up clean What happened to your confidence and charisma? I can hear your voice now floating in the sky Talking about truth and the lies that it implies Beauty is your umbrella and you always hold it high To shield you from the shower of dissension All the chaos-tongues and the rattling teeth Predict the future so digest your grief For even a ghost could stand to loose some sleep Over never-ending terror Now there's a statue in every square or park For teenagers to mutilate after dark Saying this is that of which we want no part With piss and spit and spray-paint You've got to aim high if you want to bring down Goliath Because it aint just a stone when it aint just one life And the sun will rise or set With your hope or regret" -Simon Joyner Why the hell don't people buy this guys records? 'Yesterday, Tomorrow and In Between,' 'Heaven's Gate' and every seven inch he's ever released are pure brilliance. Even the mediocre albums have at least three strokes of pure lyrical genius scattered over them. Anyhow, come tip me. I'm fucking broke. -j. 3 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

Advances none miraculous. [28 Jan 2006|04:16pm] [ music | Anticon ] "Adelia, darling, the tea is ready." Footsteps on the carpet. Gravel in the driveway raining down upon itself in soft cadence, the sound of a return to form. Three nails in the wood, good and deep. Before winter ends this will all be over or i swear i'll burn the whole place to the ground. "Adie, honey, have you seen my slippers?" Bulletproof windshields on family sedans. The other night i went to get some ice cream out of the freezer and i just started crying for no reason. "We need to see inside there, ma'am." Rough fingers bruising her tender skin. Shouting. Screaming. The cat curled lazily in the corner, licking its paws with obvious disinterest. "All done here," he said with a wink. "Unless, of course, there's anything else you need?" Hail Mary, full of grace. H-h-h-h-hail, now. You can do it. "It won't hurt at all, i promise," he lied. Daddy used to call them "fireside chats." Brick and mortar. Steel and stone. A candle on the windowsill, the air so heavy and still its flame never flickered. Get me the fuck out of here before i hang myself in the cellar. "Adeliaforfuck'ssakedon'tmakemecomedownthere!" "Adelia, come out of there and tell me what's wrong." We walked the last few steps to the edge and saw our faces in the calm water. His fingers were rough and callused, but his grip was almost feather light. Behind us (above us? below us?) the stars so thick and bright we had to squint. I wanted to kiss him, i think, or maybe raise my hand in his and step off the pier, silent as the grave and firm in our course. I know he would have. I could hear him breathing thick and slow, and in the tips of his fingers his pulse was strong and steady. I wanted him more than i have ever wanted anything before or since. I couldn't have spoken if i wanted to. Instead we stood there, silent and shivering, until the sun turned the water a dusty shade of pink and the loons sent ripples to make our image waver. I have never seen him since. DO NOT THINK THE FACT THAT YOU AREN'T BLEEDING MEANS THAT WE'VE FORGOTTEN YOU. All of it can be sifted. All of it rearranged. Everything is as clear as my mother's crystal wineglass, the one she stole from my grandmother's cabinet the day she got sick. The one in the far back of the top cupboard that she only drinks out of late at night in front of the window, the tears rolling off her chin in steady, measured drops. This is the way we learn to hide ourselves. This is a gift. A secret. A song. Only one way out, and i'll be damned if it's not on fire. if you got 'em.

Copy of the memo from that "other" other journal. [28 Jan 2006|03:32pm] [ music | Pavement ] Impasse Living Solutions, Ltd. Company Memo #24815-C Company outing to Celebration Cinema North was quite disappointing. I took Angela Peck, our GloboPeck liaison as my "date" to see Brokeback Mountain. It turns out that this film starring Jennifer Lindley from Dawson's Creek, Donnie Darko, the guy from A Knight's Tale and that smoking broad from The Princess Diaries was a movie about gay goddamned cowboys. Seriously, it was about two guys out herding sheep that totally go gay for each other and then have babies with chicks and grow moustaches or whatever, but they get together every weekend and butthump and drink whiskey and shit. What is that about? There wasn't even any Lindley-on-Princess action to compensate (though, in all fairness, i did get to see both of their tits). I read the review and it said these two guys form a "lasting friendship" that has "repercussions" on their lives. It says nothing about it being a "fireside cocksucking festival" between "two queers with spurs." I think that might influence people's decision to go, don't you? Anyway, at the end of the film, Peck is crying like a little girl. Just weeping quietly next to me. I was crying too, but i got dust or a little piece of popcorn in my eye, so that's all that was going on there. Like i care if two gay dudes have a semi-star-crossed love affair. Am i supposed to resonate emotionally with their ass pirating? I mean, Christ. ...anyway, if you're a total homo, this film is definitely up your (back) alley. I have to go cry some more. This contact is killing me. if you got 'em.

Sensational stuff, Charlie, just sensational... [26 Jan 2006|09:09am] [ music | The Conet Project ] So i found the girl that makes every girl you'll ever date look like algae. I think i've got the noose cut enough that the drop will snap it, and i know there's gas in the tank. So where the fuck am i going? Sanitizer. Loose teeth. Your mother called and she was just screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming. I burned them. The notebooks. I emptied the whole dresser and then the milkcrates and i burned the whole fucking lot of them. It's all scattered now, and the rest will follow in time. I didn't just write it down, i set it free. Millbrook. A white, chalky paste. Leaning too far out the window to shout to Uncle Billy and being decapitated by a mailbox. These are gifts, not secrets. You cannot take it back once you've spit it out, so we bite our tongues and keep them hidden behind these plastic grins but if you look at the fingers of your friends when they see you, you'll catch the faintest twitch. That is their first reaction, before the nod, the hug, the smile and the camaraderie. The first thing you inspire upon entering a room is the desire to choke you with our bare hands. It's a rough world out there, at least that's what the old folks tell me. They used to live out past the fence, i hear. If you believe that i've got a bridge to sell you. Nonetheless, making bad fiction out of bad reality is still not going to get you anywhere, just like writing songs because you can't actually talk is not going to keep the lights on. Can you even write your own? Wiretaps would reveal nothing. They had simply vanished. A dog laps water from the inside rim of an old car tire, and if i told you no more you'd picture the farmhouse and the barn and the setting sun, the porch swing and the old wooden shutters. The dog is on the shoulder of I-75, and it gets no more than a taste before the grinding, shuddering weight of a semi ripples the air and sends it whimpering for shelter. What are we making for dinner? Get married now. Tell your lovers you need to narrow down your options and simplify your equations and maybe they should just duke it out in the basement and the winner can knock you up. If you're not "in a way" already. If you're not already married. If it didn't look better in pixelated text than it ever would on paper, and it wouldn't show the world what really moves in those wet, pink insides of yours. Ouroboros. Biting down harder than you need to and tasting something sweet. Playing that same scratched record you found in the basement when you could easily download the cd version, but only because you think it makes you look "cooler." It blends together after a while, doesn't it? Doesn't it? My mother called last night and she was just screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming at me to stop. She was just... Screaming. ... and screaming. ... and screaming. All this potential and nothing to wear. 4 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

Not everyone enjoys the spotlight. Just look at prison escapees. [22 Jan 2006|07:38pm] [ music | Sixtoo: Chewing on Glass & Other Miracle Cures ] Either the curtains will close and the floodlights will come up, or the curtain will close and reopen on Act Five (in which there is no grace, according to Why?). Either way, my part is almost finished, and i don't intend to read the reviews. It's a juggling act, not classical theatre, and nobody cares how the court jester spends his twilight years. A whisper, a sigh and then goodbye, as my aged aunt never bothered to say. It was always implied. Only a little while now, and this tragedy disguised as a comedy disguised as a drama will disguise itself as an entirely different performance with the same old cast. Seasmlessly, we hope. Get your tomatoes and/or roses ready, and take a moment to think what wonderful seats you all found for the whole affair. -j. "Wow, that was wise." "I knew it would happen. One day i just woke up wise." "One day i woke up stupid." "What did you do?" "I went back to bed." "That was wise." 9 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

Anywhere but here again, for as long as we both shall live. [19 Jan 2006|04:55pm] [ music | Telephone Jim Jesus ] Snip. Snip snip snip. Snipsnipsnipsnipsnipsnipsnip. Snippity snip. S-n-i-p. Snip. -j. 4 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

[09 Jan 2006|08:58am] [ music | cLOUDDEAD: The Sound of a Handshake ] "everything on top, just gravy!!" harry fox and his mechanicals bag telegraphs the statutory rate p.a. you contract tag. who knew that harry who? had it for you?!! "we've never heard a word but we must catch you on the television." "we need to pick an artist to break. we want to break you!! w-we want to break you!! w-w-we want to break you!!" i) moneys shall be paid to the artist in the amount of a specified percentage of profits, not including: (1) facial reconstructions for the pope. (2) midnight hot tub cigar dipped soirees at the c.e.o.'s h.o.u.s.e. (3) top of the line orthodental braces for the fox family children. (4) tinsel ninja masks for all seasonal employees. (5) compensation for a designated third party bicycle physicist hired for any per-diem or long term per-poem balloon explanations. (6) any company inc. mountain tip top bathhouse-outing. (7) haley's comet research. (8) shorthand slavic embroidered pillowcase inscriptions. (9) the saving of the children. (10) all company carnies, not excluding kurt the neut cat or any water jug jesters on retainer prior to the established concrete street date. ...and the hooker hits the streets. -cLOUDDEAD The Sound of a Handshake I told my brother i'd send him this song when i got around to transferring it off vinyl and onto a more digital media. While i was copying it, the little lyric sheet fell from the 10" and i picked it up. I love the record, but i never realized it came with lyrics. Staring at them now, i find it seriously amazing that they managed to convert that, verbatim, into a song. How in the fuck do you accomplish that? It's not a shitty song, either. It's easily one of their best. Further support for my theory that DoseOne & Why? should be elected in tandem as the next presidents of the United States. We'd all end up vegan, singing on streetcorners, and out children would learn guitar and pantomime in school. It's also the reason the first decorative touch i made to the coffeeshop was that array of the first six 10" records above the menu. The ones that are now so dirty and smoke-coated they blend right in with the wall. I'm still convinced they will someday be revered as holy scriptures. -j. 3 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

Undramatic exit: stage left. [07 Jan 2006|01:27pm] [ music | Spiritualized ] "The trouble with the straight and the narrow is it's so thin i keep sliding off to the side, and the Devil makes good use of these hands of mine." -Spiritualized® 3 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

Yep. [05 Jan 2006|06:05pm] [ music | Why?: Almost Live from Anna's Cabin ] "...there is always someone lurking in the corners waiting to help you fall flat on your ass and laugh at your expense. " -recovering_poet "I pick my fights the way i pick my friends." -Sole So very true. Tread lightly or tread on down the road. -j. 3 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

I feel like i'm on the fucking Jetsons. [03 Jan 2006|03:10pm] [ music | Why?: Almost Live from Anna's Cabin ] Q: What do Rounders, Kill Bill 1 & 2, Sin City, Rushmore, Memento, High Fidelity the entire second season of Deadwood, random episodes of Mr. Show, Fight Club, Titus, a bunch of SeaLab episodes, Old Boy and Pulp Fiction all have in common? A: They are all currently taking up less than 6GB of space on my delicious little black iPod. I will never be bored again. Ever. May The Lord bless and protect you, Apple Computers, from all harm and misery. May He shelter you in His palms 'til Kingdom Come. Praise you, and praise Him for your mercy and wonder. ...oh, and for making all of your products so attractive. -j. ps: seriously, it's uncalled for. i have 30 hours of crystal clear video in my pocket, and that's not counting the other 25 GB of music it's sandwiched between. when did the future get here? 11 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

Your bosoms are on my face, ma'am. Does that cost extra? [01 Jan 2006|02:54pm] [ music | Spiritualized. ] Remember last year, where y'all had resolutions and such, and everyone was convinced the wreckage of '04 was going to be kicked in the ass by the beauty and wonder of '05? Kind of like we all did in the big '03/'04 split the year before that, etc? Check this out: 2006 is going to be pretty... normal. Isn't that fucked up? By the by, thanks for last night. -j. 8 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

CHICKA CHICKA BOOM, SUCKAS! [29 Dec 2005|03:42pm] [ music | Watching DEADWOOD with Kelly ] Aside from having no clue what "chicka chicka boom" means (and only the vaguest definition of "sucka" floating around my otherwise empty skull), i wish to remind the public at large of the following facts: 1. Friday, December 30th, 2005ad. 10pm. My house (which is also Angela, Juliet & Ben's house). A "party" as it were, in celebration of Mr. Michael May's 25th birthday party. If you don't know who Michael May is, just pretend it's your average party and go there anyhow. You'll be "background." 2. Bring your own fucking booze. Touch ours and i'll pitch you down the stairs myself with only a boot in the ass for goodbye. 3. Morningstar 76 will be closed on Saturday at 8pm. Please do not go there after 8pm, as it will be closed. Because it's closed. At 8pm. It will be open around 1 or so on Sunday afternoon, when we are sober, and can make it in. 4. Bacon is delicious. I will see you all at my house, chickadees. Together we will make sticky love and toast to brighter days and better times, not to mention the passing of the youth of Michael May. Until then, -j. 1 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

Now that was a good time, yes? [24 Dec 2005|05:09pm] [ music | Johnny Cash, Decemberists, Radiohead, Ben Davis, etc... ] ...wow. We should do that more often. Did you know Gerg gets gay when he's drunk? Of course you did. That's why we let him drink. Questions raised: 1. When given free choice of drink receptacles, why do so many people choose mugs instead of glasses? 2. Why do some people perpetually get fucking wasted, falling-down sloppy drunk at every party they attend? 3. Who stole our neighbor's christmas lights? Because that was just stupid. 4. Why am i wearing a sweater-dress? 5. Why does everyone have to move away? It's so much nicer when they're home. (this will not prevent me from fleeing at the first opportunity) 6. Seriously, who stole Animal Rape? Give it back. Now, only one more thing: I spent 50 bucks on beer and drank eight. I have one left. I only remember telling two people they could share it, and i only gave away two other bottles. That means about a case and a half just went to douchebags and you all owe me some delicious Labatt Blue, capice? Nobody makes it in the house next time without their own booze. Period. We will send you home. Other than that, i think we all had a damned good time. Thanks for coming out. Oh, and i guess it's Mike May's 25th birthday next Friday, so we're doing it all over again. 10:00pm. Our place. Bigger, better dancing. Be there, won't you? That's Friday, December 30th, which will supposedly be followed immediately, by Saturday the 31st, which some people consider the "New Year's" holiday. What's everybody doing for that? I've got furniture to reassemble and bottles to empty. Merry Christmas, suckers. -j. 12 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

Dear Amy Cordara: I smoked you. [22 Dec 2005|11:47am] [ music | The Afghan Whigs ] Dearest wicky-wacky Wengerers, What did we learn last night? 1. Nick Farr is a good accountant. He can work the numbers like a pro. 2. Shit talking will get you trounced by a 152 left handed from my Golden Gun. 3. Saying "chmalydia" is very difficult. 4. Seven layer dip is delicious, especially when it's free. 5. A double turkey is a fucking Badger. 6. Kyle gives great head, especially in public restrooms. 7. Paul can work a lane like it was a runway. 8. Amy actually does do better with her "wrist rocket." 9. Nichole knows far too much about gourds to have a real kid. 10. I apparently get unbelievably moody and turn into a prick when falling-down drunk. Thank you Jon, Rei, Kyle, Lydia, Irene, Amy, Nichole, Laura, Jackie, Kelly, Nick, Ted?, Paul, Nickfarr, Ms. Farr, Ryan & Lauren Boland, Angela and any stragglers i forgot for coming out and boozing it up at my palace of bowling delight. Sincerest apologies for the pointless maudlin hatefest that followed. Apparently exhaustion and booze mix poorly. It was nice having you in my house. Honestly, i'm sorry. I don't know what my problem was, but i was too drunk to figure it out. Next time we'll put on some music or something, both at the alley and at the house. -j. ps: bowling is always better when there's 20 of you. pps: Amy, you fought valiantly. I am sorry that God is in my left arm. ppps: how does everyone like Jake being back at work? it's nice, isn't it? 3 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

"The Golden Left" vs. All Y'all: Round 6 [21 Dec 2005|05:35pm] [ music | Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds: Rye Whiskey ] So i guess LOST is a rerun. Not that it matters to me, because i don't get home until 9:30 anyhow. Regardless, this means there is little to no reason not to show up promptly at 10pm to bowl. Lane space is limited to first-come, first-served, and they will inevitably run out of High Life. So far only seven really attractive women have agreed to go. Something is wrong with that. 1. It's only seven. 2. I thought bowling was a "manly" activity. Kyle Colter. I am pointing my left index finger at you, buddy. I own you. See you on the lanes, suckers. -j. 3 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

To avoid confusion, i will post this on the day in question. [21 Dec 2005|09:53am] [ music | 'Paint It Black' in French at the 76. ] Now i know everyone's watching LOST at 9 tonight, but at 10... i was thinking westsidelove, smittenwithhope, kafkaesquedream, ryanvan (and his lady), ramoncabezanova, ms_moustache, grooverobot, xmaverickx, irenethequeen, youfuckinloveit, lauramichelle17 (with Joe and Maureen), challengerchamp, dots_and_loops, abstractnotion (and your redheaded pal), zerojapan, marielagrave, Son & Heir, huskystar, scottrider and i should resuscitate Wenger's Dollar Beer/Dollar Bowling Extravaganza, followed by a one and a half block trip to my house to continue cranking up the crunk post-Wengering. It'll only cost you all about 10 bucks to bowl three games and get tipsy, and however much you feel like dropping on deuces afterwards. Let me know. I ain't bowled in a grip. morningstar76@gmail.com -j. edit: this post is regarding Wednesday, December 21st. when LOST is on, and Dollar Bowling happens. Sorry for the confusion. edit #2: See, that's what i'm talking about. Also, strike Jake/Jon/Ktieh from the list. Apparently some people have to work on Wednesdays. 4 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

"I said go ahead and climax, girl, just let go of my leg!" [20 Dec 2005|08:29pm] [ music | The Sensational Alex Harvey Band ] Now i know everyone's watching LOST at 9 tomorrow, but at 10... i was thinking westsidelove, smittenwithhope, kafkaesquedream, ryanvan (and his lady), ramoncabezanova, ms_moustache, grooverobot, xmaverickx, irenethequeen, youfuckinloveit, lauramichelle17 (with Joe and Maureen), challengerchamp, dots_and_loops, abstractnotion (and your redheaded pal), zerojapan, marielagrave, Son & Heir, huskystar, scottrider and i should resuscitate Wenger's Dollar Beer/Dollar Bowling Extravaganza, followed by a one and a half block trip to my house to continue cranking up the crunk post-Wengering. It'll only cost you all about 10 bucks to bowl three games and get tipsy, and however much you feel like dropping on deuces afterwards. Let me know. I ain't bowled in a grip. morningstar76@gmail.com -j. edit: this post is regarding Wednesday, December 21st. when LOST is on, and Dollar Bowling happens. Sorry for the confusion. 15 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

"See, that's better, right? Why can't we handle this Christian like?" [19 Dec 2005|12:14pm] [ music | R. Kelly: Trapped In The Closet 1-12 ] I am walking on sunshine. Whoah-oh. (aka My Girlfriend's Back & You're Gonna Be In Trouble) Also, Patty Bellringer is my new friend. He gives me hope. Also as well and stuff, R. Kelly's Trapped In The Closet series has now officially reached divine status. The man is insane, and thus untouchable. If you need me i will be all over my lady-love, molesting and such. -j. ps: "Let me drop some shit on you, man. I can just doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo-doo* and put a hit on you, man. With hot heat that'll make your heartbeat quit on you, man. And Mr. Dawson will find a pretty box to fit on you, man..." *sound of Cee-Lo making telephone button-pushing noises (including area code), thus proving he is a wonderful man. 7 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

"A moment of silence, please, for the retarded woman and the fat man..." [18 Dec 2005|08:33pm] [ music | Ropeladder 2819 (i've been adding tracks to Ropeladder 12). ] I have no patience. Either something is happening or it isn't. Either you'll come back or you won't. Problems do not solve themselves, they just go on long enough that they lose relevance. Drinking with someone all the time does not make you their friend in the same way that walking through fire for them does, though you may still be friends. I used to think you understood that, more than anyone else i know. I forget you were raised here in sunny Grand Rapids. I forget you forgot me. If everyone is just waiting to pick up the pieces, why does it seem so outlandish to try to keep something from breaking in the first place? At least you tried, right? ...oh no wait, that's wrong. Geographically and philosophically wrong, apparently. The people you surround yourself with are a far better reflection of who you are than the attitude you project. So keep tipping the cup, darling. Your table will always be full, i'm sure. I just won't be sitting at it. -j. ps: i need to go home. 10 Smoke 'em| if you got 'em.

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