30 Seconds to Lars

It's the 2nd!  I'd've happily lied and proclaimed "It's the 1st!" in at attempt to trick you, but you'd find out.  You always do.

My body's so sore I walk like Frankenstein's little boy toy.

I had dinner with Tamar at Lala's.  She's a wonderful.  That's all you get.

I just took Slaughterhouse-Five from the library.  There's a bar in Iowa City called The Foxhead inside of which many famous authors were rumored (and verified) to have spent time drinkin'.  Kurt Vonnegut was one of them.  He's sort of a darling of Iowa City.  I used to live in the house that bordered his backyard.  Anyway, the bathroom was covered in literary graffiti, and right above the toilet it said:

Vonnegut.

Vonnegut?

Vonnegut?!

FUCK Vonnegut!

PHILIP K. DICK!!!

Yeah?  Well that's just, like, your opinion, man.  But what the fuck do I care?  I'm just Lucas.  Lucas Salazar.  Eat shit if you don't like it.  Eat the shit from the toilet.  At The Foxhead.

Okay, I'm'a read somethin' now.  I got a few options.  But no Philip K. Dick.

Bye bye!

-LS^2

This bar.  A guy named Sully

offered to fight me here.  I declined.