they call me greasy choirboy.

creatures of habit are possibly the worst creatures cluttering up the planet, and i should know, because i am among the worst. the habits... compulsions... self-destructive behaviors... well, i'm not suggesting that life would be better without tradition and curiosity, but fer fuck's sake; some days i feel like bill murray in groundhog day. i guess lots of folks must feel like that now and again, otherwise, that movie wouldn't have made any money.

i'm at the end of my weekend, in which once again i did among the least possible, but the most predictable. i farted around in record shops, and on the computer. i laundered, i tidied up the kitchen. i sat around watching television. i smoked a bunch of weed. i moved a few records around. i slept in. i ate thai food. i watched a wet, useless snow drift in cotton ball-sized chunks down onto the ground, only to disappear into the slick pavement. i rarely stepped outside. the closest i got to exercise was a brief jaunt down the the driving range with pedro and the steely surf animal.

here's what i didn't do, and this is why the rza plan will be welcomed in january: i didn't make a mix cd, write a song, do the obligatory christmas shopping, cook a fancy meal, skate, jump off something tall, pay my bills, organize a couple of record sets, do any situps, clean ye olde jeep, talk to moms and pops, fix my website, invite some new friends over, paint the kitchen, find a new dog, stretch, vacuum, get a haircut, clean out the storage, get a passport, or go surfing with the surf animal. he needs a better name than that. whatever, all it means is that i had three unencumbered days, and i didn't impress myself worth a shit.

the rza plan is a stupid plan unless stepped up this year.

it's no secret that i can waste all kinds of time burning my brain with mild forms of fun. i'm a wash and wear sort of substance abuser, so i could probably be a burnout year-round, without any sort of self-censorship or concern. but for chrissakes, just because i like chocolate cake doesn't mean i eat it every day. actually, if you are me, it does. it's that whole habit thing. it ain't gonna destroy me, it will just make me feel pathetic about myself, and that sort of attitude, well, it takes you exactly to where you think you deserve to go. so, with that in mind: i don't smoke weed for the first six months of the year. years ago, i was reading an interview with wu tang clan's rza, and he spoke of doing just that. (by the way, do you know your wu tang name? pedro's is auxillary priest, which is just about this close to perfection) well, i thought that i could use a little self-regulation in my life, so i started to do the same thing. it's got it's good times and bad, but it works for me.

and this year, i'm going to try and get my drink habits nailed down too. sobriety is an amazingly overrated state, but i really need a change of scenery. so, i intend upon not drinking for that first six months as well.

i can do anything for six months. right? yeah. will it make a damn bit of difference?