ladies and gentlemen, without further adu, the notoriously notorious thomas kent. all the myspace porn stars wanna be my friend.
i have done alot of things that have only served to act as a milestone or on going testament to the bizarre events that life will allow you to expose yourself to.
look around, you'll see me. out smilin', always dancing when there is no music. thats me talking to strangers (the stranger the better). on a boat waiting to pass through canals and locks, or tied up down at the docks. thats me in a strip club in mexico on a weekday afternoon, slammin' down tequila. you'll see me, i am out there in the bad part of town in the middle of the night, using broken spanish at a taco truck, in the dj booth spillin' jager on the decks, giving unwarranted advice, buying a bourbon-rocks-twist for the girl with big tits, squinting trying to remember when sunrise became a standard part of a good night of going out. you can find me sitting 5th row at the opera, rejoicing that the empty franzia box can be opened up and the empty bag inflated and used as a pillow, drinking beers with the president of small island countries, the only person not smoking in a hash bar in chile, in the corner in a dark warehouse crowd watchin', performing weddings at sunset in the desert. i'll be sitting next to you ordering a whole pie as a meal, picking my nose like no one is looking, in the hotel room after the show, at the craps table in vegas, on the beach in the middle of a storm. i'm there staring at the moon, looking around on the ground for something i think i dropped, wandering, separated from the people i came with, tanquery and tonic glowing in the black light, riding a bike in the playa morning light. there i am franticly sleeping on the train from no where to no where, trying to use my cell phone out in the mountains, writing things on scraps of paper, trying to remember what the exchange rate is. thats me stale mouthed and hair spiked, cynical, sorted, twisted, distantly judging. rating tranny hookers on their walk and boob job, in the jungle, in the bar, on the train platform, frozen yogurt melting passed out in the park, ordering vegan at a steakhouse. there i am, government office clip on tie, peeping under stall doors to see who is coming, trying to remember if it was always like this, trying to figure out if i am stuck like this. i'm easy to spot, thats me reading gun magazines at a coffee shop in berkeley, twenty dollar shoes and hundred dollar jeans, quoting simpsons at inappropriate occasions, crushed in by the stage or wall flowered in the back. just look, i'm there.
