Sleeping In

My friend is staying at my house with me for a few days and now I,m scared to poop. That,s totally untrue. I,m still going to rip some gnarly ones, but I guess I,m kind of scared of him hearing. It,s not the act. It,s the sound created by the act. My place is so small and the bathroom is pointed right at the living room. There,s not way out of it unless I wait until he,s asleep and my weak, tender bowels will have nothing to do with that. They run on their own schedule. I am just the humble vessel which they control.

Speaking of bowels, I was going to meet up with my ex-roommate today and have a tasty, nutritious lunch, but when I called him to see what was up, he said that he was in a hospital bed because he started dumping blood out of his pooper and became so weak that he couldn,t stand. I talked to him a day and a half ago and he was totally fine so I don,t know what happened. I hope he feels better soon, though. Blood does not belong in the toilet. It belongs in your veins.

Calculator - This Will Come To Pass Tomorrow I have to go to Napa and play a weird, probably empty show with my Death Cab For Cutie cover band. I don,t know anything about it. I don,t know where it,s going to be or who we,re playing with or when exactly it is. That,s good. That way I get to hope that it,s in a winery. I want to play to a bunch of bewildered, rich, old, white people who pay eighty dollars for a bottle of wine. That,s all I,ve ever wanted. I would also like to get free crackers and cheese.