God I feel like such a space cadet today. Been reading comics, Love and Rockets and Torpedo 1936. Both very fine, the latter is a Mexican Sin City grizzled hitman story, the former is about girl rocker chick mechanics from the future who are kinda Strangers in Paradise-y. Except sometimes they dig guys, which I guess makes them REALLY strangers in paradise-y.
Paudie and I are supposed to go to this party tonight for film-shmoozers that he knows but honestly I am beat and I think I promised Dwight a backrub after his doubleshift duty today. And I myself was up till five am with that pesky literary critic from D.C. who moved to the Upper East Side and who I finally agreed to hang out and listen to Wilco with. Maybe one day he will get me a job, he's doing some collaboration with the Times now.....
damn, if names were beats, I'd be dropping them like a clumsy gardener. Whatever. Im sleeeeeepy. And my dreams are becoming too vivid, not scary but just last night I actually had FIVE seperate stages of waking up and being like "Wow that was one weird dream!" only to realize I was still dreaming. It followed a narrative too, involving James, my mom's long lost sister, and like some Oberlin hipsters stealing my cell phone. The night before I had this really intense upstairs/downstairs british drama dream, complete with lady fingers and crumpets and a freezer full of ice-cream versions of every candy bar in the world!
Speaking of food: I guess I fulfilled my eighth grade dream today by ordering Huevos Rancheros from the Life Cafe. I had them deliver and I ate in the store while some old guy talked for a really long time about playing with Ray Charles and drank PBR with me at 10:30 in the morning. Last night I ate apples and honey with those New York Howl kids, Adam Amram and the singer Andrew who is seriously the tallest motherfucker in the world with a smile like a gash who is still totally cute. Weird. Also: when I looked up a picture of Adam's dad, just for reference, he totally looks like Adam with darker hair! Weird. Him and Ginsberg and Kerouac:
Somehow I can only meet old famous people. Although who in my generation is even as famous as these guys like Lou Reed? Damn if only I got to shake hands with Zach Braff or possibly one of the dudes from Misshapes! Wtf are the Misshapes anyway? I've been in new york for a couple months now and Im still not sure if they are a band, a club, a collective, or just some hipsters who got Madonna to spin at one of their parties. I guess they are like the Michael Alig's of our generation. Is he still in jail? Whatever. My brain is FRIED and last night I could not get the image of beating someone to death with my boot out of my head. Jesus. Not anyone in specific, it was just that time of the month where I force some unwilling victim to watch Cube with me and then pontificate about the finer points of the speed-induced theology I've created around it. Like you know what makes me CRAZY?
Director Vincenzo Natali directed a follow-up short film in which we see what is outside the cube. Natali has made a solemn vow never to reveal what was outside the cube, and destroyed the video years ago.
HELLO AND WELCOME TO THE INSIDE OF MY BRAIN! COME ON IN AND GET COZY WE ARE GOING TO BE HERE AWHILE!