Dinner of Pimps: an anecdote

He did it. He really did it.

So I met a painter a couple weeks ago at this really rad show. He had tater tots near his work, and I was so happy, blown away, oddly interested that someone would have tater tots as a snack near their art. We get to chatting and I say, "this is awesome. You have tater tots! This is dinner of pimps man!"...he said, "what did you say?"..."I said, this is dinner of pimps, I mean come on, fucking tater tots for dinner."

He said, "that is brilliant, I want to make a painting out of it, with neon colors, and tater tots, that says dinnner of pimps!"...weird where inspiration comes from.

me: "oh my god, do it, it will be hilarious"

him: "for sure"

now maybe I am skeptical, or just have had enough people say things they don't really mean or know that people don't often follow through (seriously lacking in the human race), but he fucking did it. He just sent me a picture on the phone...

this is good, because my lack of sleep, and not yet sleeping and thinking was depressing me...it is nice to know some people do what they say they will. and find little crazy phrase laden minds sexy and make paintings out of.

YES!

Places, Faces, Suitcases

I think the best places to people watch are bars, airports and parks. I cannot wait for San Fran in a little over a week. Next week will be crazy good. I have been so productive today, I feel good.

People are so inherently interesting and complex...seems like I have met a slew of new people lately, all of which are very interesting and interconnected.

I feel like dancing in my underwear...maybe I will.

Exuding Extremes

Phantom rings of phones and things, the besot mess of this bliss, kiss, abyss into the ditch of power. Submerged, submissive in the blind looking for the kind, where are you, searching for two, maybe three, drink glee, jump happy, quick snappy, you don't respond, restless, joyless, passionless, more less. Grinding down shades of gray into crumbs, particles of past pictures present, molecules of movement managing the menace, filling in the empty holes with spackle. Strength pervades weakness, one point for me, you lose, I am lost, it's a play can't you see? Stuck in traffic on the freeway of desire, you fucking liar, hold me, mold me, whatever you want I have.

Red Tape

Hold on
One moment
Someone will be right with you
May I help you?
Please sign here
You forgot this part
Oh, you're in the wrong place
Who are you here to see?
We don't do that
Let me call someone that might know what you're talking about
This will take two weeks
We don't give out that information
Please hold, the line is busy
Wait time, 10 minutes
All lines are STILL busy, wait time 30 minutes
You've reached the wrong number
Who is this?
Ummm....
well let me refer you....


Current thoughts:
Frustration with school systems, medical offices, all bureaucratic institutions
Monogamy, politics, sex-- Eliot Spitzer-- who the fuck would pay up to 80 grand for pussy?! What a spectacle that story is.
Claritin D will mess up your brain and heart rate!
Being quasi-sick, but ok is a damn nuisance.
Air is good.
Sometimes I want to be a cat.

Muted Fracture

"The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it"

Nothing left but empty minds and rotten hearts. Bloodless bodies baking in their own sin.

Fallible

I am getting caught up, caught in, sucked up, sucked in, dried out. I fell for it, then fell over, then bent over and it was all over. Goodbye forgiveness, hello sunshine, I still feel the stubble on your skin. Move me, make me move, immobile in heart, luminous in stature, I don't make sense. Do you want to come here? Join the party. It's fun I promise.

I'm getting dissolved in the smoke, but coming up bricks. My flowers are blooming amidst the sea so powerful the sun so bright.

Give me something honest, something true, I want to see the real you. Do you even know who that is?
Note: whatever I write can be construed as fact or fiction, and as I know the reader will take the words however they so choose, so whether you believe it is true or not is completely irrelevant to if it actually is. Writing for me is an amalgamation of things expressed.

For the misguided mishaps misleading me to you

i- yes, please

I want, but can't have.
I look, but can't see.
I wait for you in an empty room and my mind is boiling with thoughts of your erotic incantations. Your talent and intelligence seduced me. "Oh, you're a silly girl", the ghost whispers. I ignore the ghost, but know he is right.

I am in love with a mirage. But doesn't it feel good? Dreams have always been better than reality. I WANT HIM. Desire has never burned so bright, or more pathetic in its luminescence.

ii- no, thank you
I messed up. I made a mistake. It wasn't there, it was never there, I conjured it up in my head, till I believed it was real. They are laughing, an orchestra of laughs, caucophony of insults playing their sad melody, and I smile, smiling, spewing forced glee. My makeup runs down my face while I am crying, but with a grin so big the Cheshire cat is jealous. How could something so real, be so fake?

iii- maybe
maybe I would.
maybe I wouldn't.
maybe mocks the meaning by teatering on a see-saw.
PICK A DAMN SIDE.
he said maybe. How could my yes, resort a resounding maybe?
maybe waits and waits.
The jeapordy song plays.
Alex Trebec is getting older.
Maybe I should find something else to do.