too late, kross sent me an email suggesting we not announce the kill. i'd already, as promised, reported to his object as soon as i returned from my sojourn to new york to watch kross's band play CBGB's. he found out before we left that i had him (he won't tell me from whom, but if someone who reads this website is responsible, i will track you down, you vile betrayer) and arranged to have my newest enemy make an attempt on my life. expecting that, i brought my careful roomie brigid along to guard my ass until i boarded that van. once safely in, kross turned to me in exasperation and said, "why can't you just die?"

i can't answer that. i never expected to really get involved in this game, let alone make it through weekend 1. but for whatever reason, here i am -- and last night, there i was, in very close quarters with my object. naturally i got him, and he was a good sport about it, and subsequently he was such a rock star on stage it made petty battles fade away. we walked out of CBGB's quite friendly, and into this:

man on street (whispering): acid, acid ...
ross: what?
me, steering ross away: he said Acid, love.
ross (disgusted): oh, that's what he offered me before.

three cheers, cuz i haven't mentioned it here yet, for another rock star: go LANA! another Loveless Girl title stripped away. i'm almost tearing up w/ pride and joy just thinking about it.