Recieved new issue of Blender along with a sack full of mail today, Courtney on the front - even more airbrushed than her recent album cover. What the fuck has she done to her lips? Inspired me to create my first painting in over 20 years. I can paint about as well as I can play guitar. Nothing else of note happened today, despite a rumoured appearance of Ian Svenonius at the radio show. (It didn’t happen.) Wrote a column for Loose Lips Sink Ships, fulsomely praising The Cribs, The Homosexuals and Scatter, among others. Read AMP’s Chicks On Speed feature - sent for inclusion in Plan B issue 1 - and immediately resolved to raise my game, and expose The Von Bondies for the corporate butt-kissing fakers they are. (Jason, anyway.) Recieved some fine Top Shelf comics, including the latest Kochalka, and Volume One of The Complete Peanuts from my friend Eric Reynolds over at Fantagraphics…and many congratulations to him and Rhea on their recent wedding.

Great news from Omnibus. But I can’t reveal it yet.

Last week passed in a blur of largesse and hangover remedies (stay in bed is still the best I know). The spring onions’ seed pods are positively scary now, but the new tomato and strawberry plants have died, stifled by the heat indoors we presume. Growing some mustard and mould now. Baked some butter almond cookies earlier (our oven doesn’t “do” cakes). Saw Von Bondies on Thursday. Didn’t like them. I’ll explain why elsewhere. Held my birthday party and ET’s Quizatron on Wednesday, full respect to whoever answered the ‘Territorial Pissings’ lyric question correctly and boo to the Stop Making Friends posse for calling me a cunt for decking them a point in confusing Billy Childish with Buff Medways. Talked about death and connection. Talked about crushes and coffee grinders. Talked about bicycle routes.

I’m feeling well enthused about Plan B right now: even with just about the strangest Neil Kulkarni column you ain’t likely to ever read.