I used to be your favourite drunk...

Let's all just come back here, okay?

I would read the fuck out of your 2017 livejournal is what I'm saying.

So write. Once more with feeling.

<3 jessrawk

My online presence has finally become so splintered that I no longer know where to post anything. Thus, I post nothing.

Sometimes, I just need to remember that I have the sweetest and most adorable friends.

A half-smile for a half-wink in an article summarizing half (perhaps more) your life in the '00s.

Very unexpected, to say the least. I still recall the conversations about everything of which you spoke.


Thank you.

Copying the original and then becoming brash about it does not make you the new original. In fact, it just makes you an annoying counterfeit with no depth or genuineness.

Remember Leftover Shoes? Well, I do. Apparently he makes (short?) films now.

PS: More radio tonight (of course). It's a handclap extravaganza!

Radio again tonight, kittens. It's a permanent gig for now, the co-hosting deal. I love it already and I can't imagine I'll tire of it soon. As my lovely frere put it to me, "You've been doing this all your life, in one capacity or another. Just be yourself."

In any case, the theme tonight is summer songs. I've crafted the perfect little compilation that's sure to get you bopping. Listen online at ckcufm.com or at 93.1 FM in Ottawah-wah. Stoked!

xoxox.

PS: How are you? Yes, you.

So.

There is a sweet boy who does a sweet radio show every Tuesday night at eleven p.m. EDT. And, by some strange stroke of luck, I shall be accompanying him this evening and programming half of the music. You know what that means... a hell of a lot of canindierawk (translation: canadian indie rawk/rock).

The theme may or may not be music to fuck to...

Listen online: http://www.ckcufm.com

Should be grand. Feel free to throw some last minute suggestions my way, if you feel so inspired.

<3.

'Or maybe memories are like karaoke-- where you realize up on the stage, with all those lyrics scrawling across the screen's bottom, and with everybody clapping at you, that you didn't know even half the lyrics to your all-time favourite song. Only afterwards, when someone else is up on stage humiliating themselves amid the clapping and laughing, do you realize that what you liked most about your favourite song was precisely your ignorance of its full meaning-- and you read more into it than maybe existed in the first place. I think it's better to not know the lyrics to your life.'

I'm going to see Leonard Cohen tonight for the second time in the span of a year. I feel very, very lucky right now.