all my loved ones live in Las Vegas town.

I feel there's something in the air -- a type of collective livejournal writer's block. Well, maybe not among all, but among several folks on my Friends list. Including myself. Granted, I was very busy at work yesterday, and tired and headache-y last night, but those things have not necessarily stopped me before from spending 10 minutes re-capping some anecdote or waxing un-philosophically about an incident. Whenever I'd open the update browser, I would just choke up and feel completely unable to type or move or think or whatever. Even though I'd tell myself, 'just start writing about SOEMTHING and then more will come out', I'd resist. Today I still don't have anything to write about. But I'm not resisiting. I'm just going to ramble a bit, and perhaps something salvage-able will come out.

The Grammys were a wash. I mean, more than expected even. The only positive to come out of it was hanging out with Alex, Riley, and Damon, which is way better then seeing damn Alicia Keys walk up to the podium every 10 minutes. Though we did learn that Steve Vai is alive and well. And I did enjoy Mary J.'s and OutKast's performances. Alex was wearing an OutKast clothing shirt which I loved, so last night I went to my local Marshall's and purchased two. One advertises "Stank Milk" and the other advertises "Alien Stank Syrup". They are both extremely colorful and very much against-type of the rest of my wardrobe. Perhaps why I was drawn to them. Plus, I have very few long-sleeve shirts that aren't sweaters or flannel, so I can justify their purchase beyond my strange strong unexpected fanaticism towards OutKast. I mean, I've obviously a fan and love their music, but I would be lying if I said I wasn't in some way buying the shirts precisely because they were some sort of brand associated with them. And that's very anti-me in general too. I hate sporting logos. I've been know to black them out with sharpies after buying them at discount/thrift stores. I've also been known to cut tags off shirts, even though most folks would never see them anyway. But I guess if I'm going to provide free advertising to someone, it's my ATL boys and not Nike.

Today I'm listening to a mixtape I made in September of 2000. I think it's one I made for wearemany actually. At the time I was like "there's no theme". But then I let Damon listen to it, and he's like, "uh yeah there is." So I borrowed it back from him and just now figured it out a year and a half later. I mean, the tape was made shortly after moving into an apartment by myself and about a month after breaking up with K. It's weird to hear the songs and know what they mean to me, and what they meant and how they were an extension of what I was feeling. This is why I like making mixtapes a couple times a year that have no specific purpose other than "songs I like right now", because it becomes such an interesting snapshot of my brain.

Well, I guess I wrote something. Now I must get ready for a conference call and then lunch with Ms Paradise Lost. Maybe I should call her Paradise Regained, which sounds much more positive.

Did Alicia Keys just say "give it up for my man Biggie" in her acceptance speech?

There's a chance Paradise Regained is reading my journal RIGHT NOW. So hullo and welcome. If your ambitious you can read the back entries from when we first met and I talked about how hot you are. Teehee. Oh, and I'm still having horrible gut-wrenching from our trip to Rock Records and their DVD porn collection. I discovered the worst movie title EVER. I can't even begin to deconstruct it and I don't even want to say it hear because then I'll be even further in hell. I mean, why's it gotta be horribly misogynist AND racist? AND with a horribly bad pun??? Just stick to bad interpretations of mainstream movies, like A Clockwork Orgy and American Booty.

Secondly, feel free to click HERE which will take you to Gadfly magazine on-line (no longer in printfrom, I believe) and check out the frontpage story (in the top left corner) about the 5 best video games in history. Written by none other than Mr. Brown. You should also feel free to e-mail Gadfly after reading the story and give them feedback. Even if it's criticism. Controversy is good, too.

Apparantly I'm being kidnapped at 5 pm to have dinner with MelRo & Company. Then to see Kate Clinton perform in Hyde Park. I haven't had a Friday night this exciting in years.

In other news, there is no other news. And I probably should be spending this time doing work, but instead I will probably read Rex Wockner e-mails. And I feel guilty about that. But I must stop with so many "shoulds". I don't have to be anything. Except to be is the best little Raymond Johnson I can be. (With apologies to Paradise Regained.)