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2000-10-20 || 20:54:31 || owen. || In a message dated 10/20/00 12:45:58 PM, katherinhand writes: << gimme a theme, owen. >> i'll give you a theme: owen. -owen *********************************************************** i was unemployed for two months this summer (**bliss**) and during that time owen quit his job too. at first it was non-stop excitement.. scrabble tournaments, jammin on the electric guitar he got at the ashby swap meet (i learned power chords and we played louie louie for a good hour until the pigeons nesting outside his bedroom window knocked on the glass and told us they would call the cops), going on polaroid adventures in the mission, eating rose ice cream and taking scandalous pictures (owen: "it is physically impossible to take a flattering/unscandalous picture of someone eating ice cream... jenn, you look like a monkey."), working on our press kit for the boyfriend stealers (watch out for our upcoming release on cassingle usa ). then it all took a turn for the worse. unemployment became a dirty word, synonymous with drinking cisco and thunderbird on the front stoop, asking for change at jay's cheesesteaks, spelling out words like "pathetic" and "slacker" and "food stamp" on the scrabble board. we were broke. we had lost the spirit of rock and roll. owen's usual sassiness and impeccable style had lost its spark from lack of change for the laundromat and funds for the jc penney catalog. he needed a shave, he needed a good dose of grape soda. then we went on tour. tour fashion, luckily, is very similar to i-haven't-had-a-paycheck-in-seven-weeks fashion. we fit right in, i as the trusty roadie (along with ever capable, perpetual tour-fashion michael) and owen (along with my dear brother jason papercuts and spike and princess lovelies amy and becca) as the aw shucks rock and roll star. we drove hundreds and hundreds of miles in the wee hours, smoking cigarette after cigarette and telling secrets and ghost stories; we slept on floors and waterbeds; we ate at the ribeye in olympia whenever we were within a fifty mile radius. we played shows, took polaroids, wrote on bathroom walls, marveled at vancouver hookers. and when we got back we still didn't have jobs but it was alright. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |