zx3 @zx3@driveinsaturday.org

PRESIDENT FRANKENSTEIN has successfully removed the barrier of debris and scrap metal erected by unknown persons, blocking all access to Floor 87.

Floor 87 appears to be a hotel lobby. dimly-lit but not dark, recessed lighting in low popcorned ceilings, lavishly carpeted in relaxing colors, corporate-approved abstract art on the walls, brass and teak fixtures, scattered ferns and tasteful rock gardens, thoughtfully-designed modern furniture in clusters. an empty check-in desk. slight odor of freshly-brewed coffee and disinfectant, sources not found. a low buzz of muzak, barely audible, speakers not apparent.

there does not appear to be a point in locality where the hotel lobby begins, or ends. there are no elevators or vestibule. walls and doorways lead to more vast expanses of lobby--tastefully appointed, comfortable, sense- and emotion-deadening, and empty. a place to be inhabited temporarily, recreated in an eternal moment, replicated to inhabit an infinite space.

PRESIDENT FRANKENSTEIN has considered several hypotheses regarding the reasons behind Floor 87's existence, none of them good. a consensus was reached to reassemble the barrier and mark the area in the Ledger using the red pen.

dear missus teacher

please excuse zx3 from life today, he remembered he hadn't listened to neutral milk hotel in a long time and has been rendered useless with Emotions

thanks

signed, your mom

earlier in conversation with the SO i described a very high number as "an astrological amount." it took me a good thirty seconds to realize that i meant "astronomical." boy, it's a good thing that nobody caught that verbal blunder and put it on the internet. anyway alexa, do my taxes and send toot

https://youtu.be/JXtujxT9rzA

nuclear. FUCKING. secrets.

sold to the Saudis and Putin.

get a rope. #itstime

https://youtu.be/MWCSw_cNxKc

(don't jerk off in the dj booth you'll get) come on my selecta

i think something's wrong with me but i don't know what it is yet. aside from all the stuff that is wrong with me that i already know about. something new has been added.

having VNV Nation and Knower release new albums, both absolutely fantastic, and listening to both for the first time on the same day is an embarrassment of riches. sometimes the world is okay.

today i am dealing with the ever-approaching slow-motion horrorpocalypse by: making hot dogs and mac&cheese while mildly puzzled on Costco vodka and listening to Bunnygrunt.

how are you dealing with the impending collapse of civilization today? wince knowingly, smile painfully, and leave a reply.

RIP, Becky, Queen of Carpet. legit #STL royalty. may you hover in bluescreened footage of the Arch for eternity and may Wanda, Queen of Tile wing you to your rest.

https://www.ksdk.com/article/news/local/becky-rothman-queen-of-carpets-rothman-furniture-dead-at-67/63-f78d43a4-924d-491c-9b43-4aed8e2237d0

dear drunk dads: it is ok for you to drag your visibly disinterested family to a concert venue, spend the entire time during the concert going back and forth from your seat to get more drinks, being on your phone when you get back, and generally being a distracting shithead, i guess. but where i draw the line is when you get up and do the floppy-arms-over-the-head, spinny-roundy drunk dad dance. that kind of shit is fine at a Grateful Dead concert and nowhere else. have some decorum for crying out loud. signed, the guy you kept bumping into

P.S. if your kids don't hate you yet, tonight will most likely be the beginning of a downward trend.

always a pleasure to crowdwatch in an audience like this. so far, no appearances of the "Fuck Me And Marry Me Young" t-shirt offered in the merch foldout of original-pressing Sisters albums. on the other hand there are so many black t-shirts that the venue lighting is struggling to illuminate the crowd area. it's like waiting for a Disaster Area concert from inside Hotblack Desiato's stunt ship.