08.23.03 The title of this entry is from "Terrapin Station", one of my personal Grateful Dead favorites. My friend Alan used to think that line was about him. (Hahaha.) He thought he was some kind of fucking guru, I guess. Last night & the night before I felt unbelievably sick - icky, even. Sleepy & achy, like the motherfucking flu or something. Clay said that he had it too, but I suspect that he didn�t. BF had the same symptoms this past week, so it might in fact be some sort of virus and not just one of those things that I have sometimes. One of those crazy, crazy things. BF�s show is tonight at BJ�s. They insisted that they go on first before the other band Mr. Orange, because they think that MO sucks & don�t want people to leave before they hear BF�s band. The other shitty thing is that MO wants to charge a$2 cover. BF said they will play without a cover charge & then MO can collect whatever they want. Fucking rock n roll. I spent Thursday night making a CD for Clay�s portfolio. He came over last night to pick it up & suggested that I talk to Gordon (the guy at Ironworks) about doing a gallery show of some of my stuff. That would be super cool, especially if I could sell some pieces. I think Gordon would be all for it, especially since I did some photos of his sculptures that would be included if he wanted. Hey, free advertising. Bo kept calling & wanting to come over, and then Chris showed up at my door also. Chris got his ass beat again (but I won�t go into that now). I pointed Chris back out the door because he knows that he is banned from my house because of that shit he pulled (punching me in the head while I was driving back from Jazz Fest) & because he can�t control himself. People kept ringing the doorbell all fucking night. I showed Clay the wonders of the Internet while BF played records. Then after everyone left, I collapsed onto the bed at the late hour of 10:30... feeling like shit. But hey, my night was without pills. So, I am off to take pictures at the flea market before it�s time to go up to BJ�s for the show. I am going to stop by Gordon�s (maybe) and call my mom and piddle around the house a bit. Fun times. I may or may not get super fucked up tonight. We�ll see how it goes. *hums* ...from the looks of him, who came through many fights, but lost at love... strategy was his strength, and not disaster... while you were gone, these faces filled with darkness... the obvious was hidden... with nothing to believe in... |
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