Spent last night scrambling to put together the video episode for this weeks integralnaked.org stu-cam installment. everything i looked at with me in it made me want to puke. i was like "someone get this guy to shut up" and 'oh, i've only seen him do THIS four times before...". then my wife told me: "honey, you are so reactive. you're just upset because you don't have anything and it's deadline time..." and i was tacit, because is SO right. i have become one reactive son of a bitch. and why?

Half the time I don't have a clue what Rufus Wainwright is singing, and who gives a shit? his voice is a mellifluous opium den. go inside and next thing you know it's four days later and there's drool dangling from your chin to the floor. now this is a guy who simply is incapable of rushing a song. i bet they give him coke just to get him singing in the same measure as the band. he is behind the beat, dead center in ultra cool. and he holds the notes. sometimes i'm like "is this still this, note?