The kickoff of Frigid Bitch 3 (or whatever) was, possibly, the greatest FB meeting we have ever had, if I do say so myself. Thank heavens none of us ruined it by relenting to our vomitous cravings.

Attending: Brock, Matt who is Never Called Matthew, Daniel, Andy, and several bottles of wine. Also, Gavin Rossdale, and the rest of 1996. Twin Peaks' music cannot hold a candle -- not even a single dying firefly -- to Cafe Royale's angry mid-90s alternative radio. What a treat! I am confident that we have chosen an excellent location for the next year's gatherings, nasty neighborhood and lack of transit be damned.

Commitments: Brock seeks to obtain either some black prints or a Black Prince, and also some fag hags with eating disorders; Non-Matthew has his animationy project, and a weekly schedule (as yet undetermined) for working on Stuff. I too much hold myself to a schedule -- when I enforce specific "writing time," much to my surprise, I actually manage to produce things. Daniel, I assume, is working still on his SECRET PROJECT. And Andy, oh, he's a slippery devil. I forgot to get a promise from him.

Next month will be even better, and by better, I mean worse.