mime activities with mime tendencies. jenny hangs her pop paint in a hair salon. one really stands out-- my aim is true surrounded by checkerboard against pink. homeless people think i'm a celebrity. yet another pal engages. one guy says, "what's your deal? do you do anything creative?" the wind blows wet and cold. he says i have the mannerisms of a druggie. i respond jovially to all of that, "haha, fuck off. you're from orange county!" don't you know who i am?? i'm a relative of ken kesey, so i will now proceed to drop his name liberally and use it to get as much attention and free loot as possible, all the while pissing my life away and never accomplishing anything nearly as relevant as one of his farts. so get me a table near someone famous, before i have you fired!! fear is the dark room where the devil develops his negatives. fear is the mind-killer.

two nights of dead orchestra, courtesy of jennifer and victor. i spend most of this time smoking and fumbling around trying to find the right key. only "my sweet lord" comes out quite right. and "national express," too, but that one's a foregone conclusion. i come home from matthew barney films, to watch repo man and rinse out the confusing taste of surrealism. i leave a show early and now i'm pouring sweetness in the gutter. mimes are your friends, mimes are your enemies, and friends are just enemies in reverse.

wear a black beret and
sip on tanqueray.