Hey, it’s Barry. Sorry for the lack of updates lately, I’ve been crazy busy as of late. Lots of work stuff has been getting in my way.
Right now I’m in my regular coffee haunt, Potter’s. It just got Wi-Fi, so there’s no excuse for me to not update the old blog. The cute barista is working this morning.
My friend Alan, an adjunct photography professor at Georgetown, got me in touch with Nick Hornby and we’ve been trying to work on a project together for some time. After the whole Vendela Vida project fizzled, I’ve been hesitant to work with another writer for some time, but Nick and I have been getting along swimmingly.
The graphic novel is still up in the air. It’s completed, but the fucking publisher been sitting on it for a few months now. This shit is bananas.
I’m looking forward to Record Store Day! My band, The Groovebombs, is doing an in-store at Melody Records at 3pm, and selling copies of our split 7’’ with Chopteeth. While my vinyl collection has been collecting dust lately, I’ll be sure to check out the amazing selection while I’m there, and FINALLY pick up the new Yo La Tengo album.
Signs of me becoming an old man: parent-teacher conferences! Michelle usually handles this sort of thing, but she’s been taking night classes at Georgetown, (with Alan actually) so I had to go. Me and the teacher ended up hitting it off and got a late dinner together after the meeting. While I disagree with her about “hip-hop dying with Dilla,” I found her to be a very intelligent and charming young woman. I know my kids are in good hands. We made plans to see that Ian Dury biopic together when it comes out. It looks really rad.
While in the school, I got flashbacks from my school days. I remember getting sent to the principal’s office after an argument with my English teacher about Burroughs, and getting caught smoking hand-rolled cigarettes in the bathroom. I cringe when I think of that fucking beret I used to wear to school every day. How embarassing. And yes, it still sits in my closet.
The guys in the office invited me to a Nationals game. I didn’t end up going though. I just can’t get into baseball. It’s too “American,” you know?
I’ve been butting heads with an unnamed Secretary I work with. She got her pantsuit in a bunch about a Salon.com article I forwarded to a few people. She called it “mildly sexist.” I called her “mildly bitchy.” She called HR. This is just another fucking headache I’d rather not be dealing with now. I’m seriously considering quitting that shit, and just writing novels and playing with The Groovebombs full time.
I just got new converses. I feel like a fucking tool when they’re still clean. I don’t feel comfortable in them until they’ve been worn out and dirtied for a few weeks.
The cute barista keeps giving me the eye. She’s about fifteen years younger than me and has a nose ring. I’m trying to think of something witty to say to her when she goes on break, which should be coming up soon. She always takes a break at 11:15. I really want to get high with her and talk about philosophy.
Well, that’s all for me. Feel free to follow me on Twitter, and y'know, the news. Peace out.