the week ahead

i'm lost in the suburbs. i am now a professional cat sitter/book boxer.
please pay me a visit: where's bubba?

hollatoesis

if you're wondering why my breath has been a little funky of late...

scroll down to the bottom...

a thought

so, i'm wondering... if iraq splits up into three (or more) separate states, does that mean that maybe the rest of the world will follow suit? i guess what i really mean is: will the US of A be able to split along political and cultural fault lines? can the east and west coasts rid themselves of the utter belligerent crap in between? (of course, minnesota and those other poor lost blue states can join ohhhhhh caaannaaaaddaaaa.) i think it's really worth thinking about.

love,
setlzer

some new developments and a few old ones

living in my parents house should probably give me serious incentive to get a fucking job with a warlordian salary and a new hairdo. the ceiling is slowing falling down on strange objects from the past (a finer past, i might add) and none of our appliances were created post-y2k. the trouble is, finding a job is quite possibly the most disgusting process known to the bourgeoisie. actually... i don't really care.
what i do care about is lady jane's phenomenal blog. and what i also care about is what she wrote on that blog in regards to bringing back the world-renowned shuttlecock salesman to capult. i'm not, might i point out first and foremost, returning to stank-ass capult any time in the foreseeable future, e.g. before the third millennium, but i do propose that all move here, to the slightly odd imperial capital and start dance party revolutions on tuesday mornings. we need it, you need it, and i'm beginning to wonder. so lady jane, ahhh lady jane, wonderful, ginormous bottomed lady jane, is on point about my utter incapacity to maintain serious discussion about things of importance in ol' capult. the hopelessness was a bit too much for me. but now that i am back in the tawdry imperial capital everybody fucking asks me the most boring shit. nobody wants to know how fucking ridiculous the entire shebang was. and this is something that the half-court squire had better put some serious thought into. i think that part of the beast that is post-modern colonialism entails half-witted ex-pats sitting about and discussing with dead seriousness what is fucking best for a place that would be better off if they weren't there in the first place. and it's one thing to be a hypocrite, but it's another to deny it. daft.

oh wow

So, I've now had two responses to my classified ad. Here they are:

1) this is from a woman of beauty in capult:

Dear Drake



I’ll buy ya.



Lady J


2) this is from a mysterious woman (i can only assume) named p:

hi drake

i'm looking for someone to do the following:

1) unfizz a carton of sparkling water.
2) read and review some short story submissions
3) come up with daily tall tales that are entertaining

let me know if you are interested. p


--

what a life!


of course i accepted both. i'm no fool

blimey

i woke up to this email:

My dear Drake,

I miss you so much I think I might die.

Love,

Boxed Red Wine



I'm going to starbucks. to think

Zeltzering

Dear loved ones,

I was told recently to write 500 words every day. here goes.
i think quite a few of my readers (ha!) are living in countries that are slightly second world- you know, like england and france and those sorts of places- and they should be forewarned about incoming technology. well, i've recently returned from the year 0 and noticed a few advances in this here land of golden opportunity. first and foremost are the new paper towel machines in johns. you no longer have to pull or pump or turn or crank. these days you just wave to the machine and you are reciprocated with a firm dry piece of paper. it's not too exciting, but worth knowing about. and in case you were wondering, there doesn't seem to be any mechanism to stop you from waving at them all day, so enjoy. they should hit western europe in 5 or 6 years. as soon as you all start to get over the ipod craze.
how many words is that? probably not 500.

i can't think of anything else. i tried to write a limerick. this is a far as i got:

There once was a girl with big lips
Like two large converging big ships


i think it is a good start. feel free to make any suggestions.

in case you were wondering, i haven't got any responses yet to my classified ad (link below). i should though. i have 23 mosquito bites.

take care,

drake zeeellltzer

so bored

somebody had better hire me or i will start leaving messages like this on the internet...

please pay me like you want me

i went to beantown yesterday. it started as a disaster and ended on a pier with an ice-cream cone in hand. the purpose of this visit was to interview with a man with a monotone voice to see if i was a most suitable candidate to manage his newspaper in cambodia. i was.
the day started in the imperial capital at an early hour in a beltless costume on the metro in foggy bottom (a stop at which both the illustrious orange and blues lines pay frequent visits). i had forgotten that different color 'tro lines had a habit of wandering off in diverging directions- and needless to say i entered a train on the wrong line. luckily i recognized the error of my ways at the penultimate stop on the blue line which advertises some destination known as franco-springphonia. i can't imagine what is out there. the suburbs have always filled me with a sense of horror. so i doubled back to rosslyn (similarly frightening) and waited for the orange line to whisk me off to West Falls Church. I left the comfort of the urban 'tro with sincere regret and great speed as to make a bus to the airport which was scheduled to leave at precisely one minute before i arrived. i didn't make it and i found myself in what can only be described as a developer's dream and a citizen's nightmare. a quick reminder that dc and its surroundings are revoltingly hot during the summer months. humidity causes sweat to pore from one's brow, back and shins (yeah, even shins) like a beading mint julep on an alabama porch. the developers of west falls church had clearly taken this into account and decided to plant a tree here and there, after having demolished the forests which had stood there since the mesozoic era. so there were three trees. and a hell of a lot of sun. unfortunately for me, none of the three trees was over four feet tall and my bus wasn't scheduled to arrive for another half hour. so i stood and i sweated.
the bus did come. but i was late and i missed my flight (security). i had to stand spread eagle and have some sort of sonar device caress my body for 10 minutes, while my plane was boarded, the doors were shut and the safety measures read aloud. i got on a flight 2 hours later and sat next to a lady with a penchant towards violently flipping pages of her in-flight magazine towards my face for the one hour and twelve minutes we were in-flight. i considered my patience (e.g. not grabbing the fucking thing and beating the hell out of her with it) a sign of maturity. we landed in beantown and i went to meet the man with the monotone voice to discuss our future together. he was a nice man. an interesting man. and i pretended to be so as well. we hit it off and began to discuss specifics. "i hate to ask such a question," i ventured in, "but , can you give me an idea as to how much i can expect to earn?" my face betrayed a look as if it wasn't something i was particularly concerned about, but felt i had to ask in case my girlfriend brought it up. "$1300." he said with a straight face. hmm. surely this would include transportation to and from, what my father recently referred to as the nebrahhska of asia... no. well, surely this would include room and board... no. surely i could make some money on the side doing freelance work... no. we would share it. he sensed my concern. "well," he knitted his brow, "as long as you don't waste it all away on beer, then you should be okay." FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!
damn right i will waste it all away on beer. and vodka. and grass. and ... well... you know. i'll need a girlfriend.
fuck.
so, if i end up in cambodia in a few months, please send beer, vodka, grass and girls. cuz i will be eating rice, drinking moonshine and once again considering girls with downy upper lips.