Still haven’t slept. Just heard the new about Johnny Ramone, and that’s sad. Very sad, especially after I was telling Maggie Vail that she was the inspiration behind me doing a Ramones book after the eulogy she sent out after Joey’s death. When I have time, I’ll write one for Johnny. Something to do with being the greatest punk rock guitarist ever, the way he decided on one certain style early on and never switched. The fights and the dedication and the obsession with fame (not musical). The haircut. The shoes. The denim. THE GODDAMN FUCKING RAMONES, dude. They’ve gone.

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Yesterday was very exciting: Al dropped off an already edited version of The Legend! Vs The Shady Ladies album, I got to sing two songs at the Bordeaux-Olympia Loveline’s Talent Show that took place in McCloud’s apartment (and that man is worth a blog to himself) - the entire rooom rocking forward and back gently, and crooning along in chilling harmony with my ‘death’ song: eating apples with honey at the Martin: chatting with Slim in Mexican restaurants about the debt this town owes to Tobi Vail: breakfast and brunch with new friends and old: depositing 20 copies of CTCL around town (Richard remind me that I owe you some money): no crazy drink and dance parties for the last two nights, but an equally crazy boy called Steve who was in a Hole covers band, finally exploding with relief now Eric’s left town and sending all those obsessed questions my way much to everyone’s amusement (even mine): recording again with Peter and Marissa and Marianne in a punk rock house somewhere I’ve never been, and racing through an astonishing number of drums/guitar/keyboard songs while a creepy Marilyn Monroe film played in the background: woken by the lawnmower outside Diana’s at 7.30am: more liquid 45 imbibed at the Brotherhood the previous night, dacing in the streets, wanna fly….