Contact.

They worried about responsibilities they no longer wanted and the costs exacted by one’s foolish choices.In both their lives many things were not going perfectly,but it was lucky that they knew each other.With a good pal they knew that they would be alright.

-Marion Meade (“What fresh hell is this?”)

I don’t care where we go, I don’t care what we do,I don’t care pretty baby….just take me with you.

-Prince.

I could smell your treachery 10 miles away on a windless day.

-Red Zero Se7en.

Palm to palm / under glass / We provide contact / we give contact / and no one will ever know.

-Contact. New song ’08.

Went to bed a 4.Been up since 8.Color me shitty.

The palace of desire the architecture of lust.Castle made of latex spiderwebs and held aloft with virgin spit.

This is the tower where I sit and wait for you while you paint the town red and woo all the whores beneath me.You motherfucker. Not that I know or anything….not that there is proof per say. My spidey senses are tingling. (” I could be wrong,I could be right….”)

 I just feel it is all.

(I know that I am not the only one.)

It shits me.

Who am I kidding?Not myself that’s for sure.I can see how your routine works for you and how you use it.I would too if I was as cool and gutsy as you. Which I am not. I get to wondering if you have ever wanted anything quite so bad and how you dealt with it?

(Send answers on a blank postcard to….)

An absolutely disgusting sleep on the studio floor filled with horrible stressful dreams. Peaking over my soft physicality. My machine is a piece of shit and its all my fault…let it slide.I make myself sick.I wrote to Chicken at some ungodly hour last night telling him that I am “Fat like Elvis…but without the talent or the jumpsuit” He told me that there is gym need the studio.My relief at this point is tangible.Making deals with a dead god yet again.

So you didn’t tell me…Do ya wanna kiss me? be my date?

( I wonder if you have kept all the postcards that I have sent you over the years.Where do you keep them? If a random woman walked by you wearing Samsara would you have instant recall? Hands on me,tongue in my mouth. I want you.)

And I hate it.

I am homesick.Missing my life.Getting on the train day in and day out.The all night no brain-er.( “Derrrrr!” ) The amnesty of illegal motion.The red light special,that’s me. I miss it because I know it. Right now I am dealing with constant flux and when I am not on top of my game ( “My Abs! My Abs! I cant see my Abs!!!”) it tends to tie my ass into one fierce knot . ( Virgo; ruled by the stomach.)

Ah Saint Tina. I have not told her whats going on in my life.I mean ,any of it. I sent her my number last night cause I know that she knows that something is up. It was a case of preservation . For both of us.I followed my gut. Shit was wrong and I couldn’t have her worried about the condition of my condition all the way back across the world. Its the age old adage of control and picking your battles. There was nothing that she could have done. Shes a cancerian. Sensitive.I know that she would have up and lost her shit.

I did what I thought was right. Good manners to protect the ones that you love from the worst of you I think.She is gonna read me the riot act but I know that  in time she will get it.

Its gonna be one fuck of a conversation. “Her ma! Everybody has up and died on me again and I am gonna make an album. Hows the weather back there.?”

Humans eh? What folly! I am feeling like the salmonella virus at the pot luck dinner of life right now.

Back on earth (Yeah right!)

Got an e-mail from my mate Cookie the other night. So called because she is always playing with herself. She is heading back to London. Raquel is in Melbourne. We 3 are all over the shop. We must have known that it was gonna be like this. Luke Tattooed us all with our forearm stars before I left again….Big Mouth Mc Stompy pants here, always the 1st to go.Indian bone instigator of the eternal get gone…

Life rips you asunder and time drags you under. I like knowing that we all have the same markings.It can serve to keep you true to a memory. Go well.That’s all you can wish anyone right?

Go well.

Pretending like I don’t have to pack,don’t have to get all my words together. Saint Michele of Procrastination. As I type this I am also reading my journal from January this year. Mm-mm….The summer sets me alight.I spoke to Leizel about staying a while longer with her in Long beach.Shes up for it and I am relieved. We have alot of work to get done when I get back from Canada ( 18 pounds lighter if you please! ) and  The thought of a Sydney winter in my flimsy uninsulated city shack is not such a sexy prospect at this point. Leizel and I are getting into all kinds of joint trouble. She is my photographer and I am her sweaty muse of sorts. There will be midgets and monkeys…Use your deprived imagination.

( Oh Scoot…you would have LOVED this….)

A guy asked me the other night what I played

“Havok” I purred and watched as he melted before me.

I cant put shit off any longer.Gotta be a grown up…not for long….not for keeps.

Just gotta get my tin quackers in a row and lock and load.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

M

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