I read true crime. I reminisce. I look at these damn voyeur blogs and wonder how many mouths you've kissed since you kissed mine. All in all, I feel bitter a lot now. Sometimes I draw pornographic food.
People who aren't freaked out by my sexy phallic cane. I'd like to meet the guys in Tears for Fears. I'd like to meet the gradeschool version of me so I could finally cut her a break and tell her that life was never going to stop being gorgeous or painful, but that being happily wine drunk, eating pizza for breakfast, riding a motorcycle, or making love were great and worth living through the purgatory of middleschool.I'd like to meet Elvis Costello, of course. And any old men who left their childhood behind too soon to become fathers or soldiers or heroes.I'd like to meet whoever came up with the term DIRTY SANCHEZ or BLUMPY because it would be interesting to not be the person with the sickest mind-verbal setup in the room.I met a lot of people who were AltRock famous in the 90s when I was the astrologer at the radio station. You know, psychics or intuitives or whatever are rarely if ever precognitive about their OWN lives, or else when I met Tori Amos while doing her chart, I would have begged her to look into the next decade with me and tell these sycophant little feminazi twatbrained teenagers who would buy her records to please fucking get off my case just because I happened to also put out a couple records while having a cunt and a piano in my keep. The piano is downstairs now, and I have become the cunt.
i like tom waits and elvis costello.and i like...fiona apple.and a bunch of other people that are regional who used to be listed here but i do NOT like networking, gladhanding, asskissing, and politics.i'd rather fuck a dog for free because of a truth or dare game turned sinister than gamely take forty bucks a night to sit on my ass in used levis to check IDs, stamp hands and tell people when MY next show is as if they'd give two turds and a rolling rock.onward christian soldiers.if i wanted to be a salesman, i'd have a bigger house and bob serpentini's dick print on my soft palate.amerrrrrrican and proud of it.no, sweetheart, i didn't run out of ritalin. i ran out of false charm and unemployment checks and sadly unlike many 30 ish semi talented chanteuse types with bonesmoker lips, no one is going to pay me royalties to use big words and sit on a kitschy couch and sulk.however, i am pleased as piss punch that there are 20 ish girls who WILL pay me to take that same picture of them looking underfed and overangsty in a bar i may have thrown up in when my nightlife was quasi fun, but a blur memory wise.
I like a variety of movies. If I like them enough, I've seen them enough for now, so why tell you about it? I have the Untouchables dialogue memorized. It's really about as sexy as listening to a room full of guys I used to drink with recite along with the whole EMPIRE STRIKES BACK as if they were pre Vatican II altar boys.Really, they are equally sexy things.Except that Brian DePalma never had the friends in high places as Lucas.SO I never GOT a FRANK NITTI action figure. SO I have a lot of guns now. And I cross dress in zoot suits sometimes.When is a city with a nice transit system gonna host a con for something like THAT, hm?
The Urinal. My cats. Since we stopped having cable the cats have been maliciously spraying it.
i read true crime, and I read interesting to me history. And I read .....when the Campbell's ABC soup says PULL THE TRIGGER, PEPPER but I don't listen.The library is mad at me, but I have a lover. Who is a bird. And he brings me library books and taco bell and tenderness I do not deserve.
John Glenn Al Capone Bobby Acton