Lately, I've been thinking about things that I need. A steady supply of feminine attention (I am after all, a guy). A new car, as That Which Shall Not Be Named is getting older. Cable TV. DSL. More Pez dispensers. A new baseball cap. A new haircut (I'm sort of bored with my current one). Most of all, I've decided there is one really important thing that I need.

A Nemesis.

Seriously, there is no one in my life that I can abjectly be nasty towards, and recieve abject nastiness in return. No one to trade pithy, humorous and derisive banter with, no one against whom I might defend myself with my superior wit and guile. A big part of the reason for this is that most people with whom I would like to engage in this fashion are too much like this jackass. You should have mentally and verbally pummelled him, Allison.

There's something really great about finally getting your project finished. Every section of cloudwrangler works now. There are posts in every section, the archive works but needs fine tuning, there is new stuff all over, and scary as it was, I put up a couple of stories I wrote. I think they stink, but then the artist is his own worst critic. Tours of cloudwrangler are available by clicking things, which I am sure you can all do without a guide. Enjoy.

A sampling of the things I saw at the Masonic show on Thursday night.

The Continental Club, which is like the South-Austin-Hipster 78704 Mecca. (I had never been, clearly I am just now officially cool.) Elvis on a postcard. A green Kangol hat. Jack Daniels. K-dog. A snooty brown sweater who seemed offended when I lit her cigarette (it's just professional habit, lady, ease down). One of the guys from Spoon (Kev pointed him out). Tall boots, everywhere. Red curls, beautiful. Shiner Bock. Rye-bread. swagger. American People, the opening act, who looked like what the Partidge Family Band would be like if none of the Partidge family had anything in common and didn't even like each other (They were great). Black Lipstick, unloading. black lipstick. Baby Newsum. More Jack Daniel's, Kev told me to get a sponsor (he was just kidding MOM). Great Bathroom Graffitti, which isn't a band name but should be.

And, oh yeah, a killer Masonic show. Those guys rock. They also roll. Big fun.