Comedy 'Tache

So this afternoon I decided to get rid of a big stack of CD's. Last weekend I sold a bunch at Sound Fix in Brooklyn, but still had a ton left over and, let's face it, the compact disc is a dead medium. I put an ad up in the free section of craig's list stating that there was a small box of CD's outside of my apartment that included, but was certainly not limited to, things that were sure to wet the pants of any indie music snob this side of the East River. In my mind I pictured a pseudo-utopian gathering at the steps of my building; people casually picking over my discarded records and discussing the current cultural void of modern music. "Oh, that one is great, but I prefer their first record." "Have you seen them live? Yeah, they have all kinds of shit on fire like Ted Nugent.' That sort of stuff. It could have been an excersise in socialist practice. Some dick, however, decided to wander by, pick up the entire box and just carry on. So it goes. This is, once again, why we don't have nice things.

On an all together diferent note, last night at the famed and infamed Prada fiasco a bunch of my Interpol pals turned up who I hadn't seen in ages. I chatted for a bit while working. I didn't however get to see Carlos who, as I've heard, has spent the better part of his year off attempting to grow facial hair with somewhat spectacular results. There were pictures to support this fact.



















Oh, it makes me smile. He looks like the painting on the cover of a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo that I have on my bookshelf. He also looks like Gene Shallot.



















Sometimes I laugh so hard that it hurts.