Natalie Portman

I'm telling you a story now
of something that's wrong
This has been developing
since nineteen eighty-one


Maybe she's alone
Maybe she's alone
What can i do?
What can i do?
There's nothing
There's nothing
There's nothing i can do

If i'm a proper jewish boy
Will her family love me?
Can't stand to see her on the big stage
And know she's not thinking of me

Maybe she's alone
Maybe she's alone
What can i do?
What can i do?
There's nothing
There's nothing
There's nothing i can do

Maybe she'll be hearing this,
but probably she won't (probably she won't)
Possibly she has desires,
but probably she don't (probably she don't)

Maybe she's alone
Maybe she's alone
What can i do?
What can i do?
There's nothing
There's nothing
There's nothing i can do

-Ozma.

There're two covers I plan on learning, and this is one of them. It fits the idiom of the other songs I've been writing. By the way, to anyone I've spoken to about Ozma before, they are in no way a Weezer side project, but a stand-alone gang of Californians that happen to sound a bit like the Weez and also happen to have toured with them. No Rivers Cuomo involved.

Last night I was drunk and as I laid down, I thought two things:

1: I should drink some more water, and

2: Hangovers have nothing to do with how much one consumes or how much water one drinks or whether one has liquor after beer. No, I decided, hangovers are an exact indication of how good a night you had. If you drink eight bottles of Tesco Wine (this guy knows what I'm talkin' about) all by yourself while crying about your dog dying, according to my theory, you would have no hang over. Conversly, if you have a single beer but make out with (insert celebrity of your choice) and win a gillion dollars, you would have the worst hang over ever. Now keep in mind I was drunk when I came up with this. It was probably all an effort to rationalize not getting up to have some water and thereby making me deserve the hangover I was setting myself up for. Regardless it was all disproved when I got up today hangover free. It was a good night.

It was Andrew's half-birthday, and we had some beers to celebrate. Couldn't tell you why it was so nice, but it was. Stellar is a word I would use to describe it if it hadn't been tainted by Incubus and the radio goblins that played that song so much that it makes me want to flip out and/or swallow a frisbee whenever I hear it. So in lieu of stellar I'll say it was grand.

And then everyone else went to drink at a bar while Jesse and I went back dormside and drank the beers we'd been refrigerating on the porch and talked a lot, loudly in the smoking lounge.

You Oak Ridge cats (and kittens) are right about that kid.

MUSIC: piedmont charisma: get with the spinoff