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the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

Tokyo, 2008.03.06

I hopped on my bike this morning, raring to get to the office early to catch up for the day I'd missed yesterday.

I was ~400 metres from home when I had a flat. Happily, I'd stopped to take some photos on the way, so I didn't get too far from home. I decided to turn around and walk it home rather than change the tire where I was.

I'd been riding on one of the tubes I'd patched, and was not entirely surprised that it had gone flat -- the patch had spanned two suspiciously parallel splits in the tube and I wasn't sure that the small patch would do the trick.

It turned into a long day at the office. I didn't leave 'til well over ten hours had passed; the icing on a bad week's cake.

rand()m quote

For a long time I was very bitter that the people who controlled the means of anybody ever hearing my songs were never gonna play them. They only favored music that I specifically and particularly hated, and I wanted them dead. Suddenly, there was another avenue. I started hearing my stuff coming out of bars and then it started to happen little by little -- a movie song here or a TV ad there.

—Iggy Pop