112815 who are you?

Who is my audience?  What is an audience?  A people who hear!  In this medium, who read?  What does read mean?  Read: come again?  Like readmission, ‘let me in again!’  I remember this one time at Brown when I got kicked out of a Santigold Spring concert because I wanted to go from the quad to grab my flask, but the gatekeepers were like, ‘no readmission!’ and I’m like ‘are you high too? This is Brown University, educational institution, and isn’t reading your mission?’ I grabbed a fistful of tickets from the stub bucket and took off running, but I wasn’t about to get lost, so I was escorted out. “You’re outta here!” I remember this one lady in a yellow staff jacket saying like a baseball umpire as I went back out the gate, and there I was alone in upper Providence killing time.  Oh well.  I got my rum.  Early mushroom memories. 

To answer my own question, reading was not their mission that day, it was to secure borders.  (Borders® is a funny name for a bookstore, shouldn’t it be Borderless?)  I understand we are all working in a closed system, necessarily, for the physical laws of conservation of energy to work as scientists know them.  Am I the only one who doesn’t want to get physical?  Let’s not get rough.  Meanwhile my hair’s thinning.  But why should I care about what anyone else thinks when people don’t care about what I think?  I used to be a trendsetter.  It was all a trick.  It was a mind game.  War crime mines destroy gams.  Why would anyone manufacture mines and who else would bury mines for their intended use?  Under duress I could understand, but who wants to expose another to duress?  Ask Duracell I guess.  Min-D cup Gams blow up, doll.  This is what I think, like Jane’s Addiction, that Sex is Violent! (Admit it, Ted).   Who’s Ted?  Says Dave, “See, I brought a vibrator for my girlfriend in a sex shop in New Orleans on the way to a sound check. I was showing it to somebody--"Look what I bought!"--and I turned it on about a foot away from the pickup. It went "Neeeowrr!" It was the coolest thing I ever heard. I Velcro it to the side of my amp and use it for "Ted, Just Admit It" waving it all over the pickups with the echo and wah going.” Guitar Player, 1991.  Who doesn’t love a good vibrator story? Useful too, audience!

One problem I have is that I have all this old shit writing from the past eight years saved up and I suppose that’s called hoarding.  I want to get rid of most of it now.  Much of it is tied to not particularly good memories, like this one lonely memory of crapping into a plastic bag because I had diarrhea from taking three antibiotics for chlamydia and my roommate who let me sleep on the floor of his high-rise apartment occupied the bathroom so I had no other choice.  Bury me with it.  I passed this test of being to think rationally on the spot and solve a problem I had never been exposed to before the time-limit expired and my friend made an embarrassing discovery, and really what would the consequence be?  That I’d have to hear about it for as long as I knew this friend, as a competitive male, this type of information is not to be kept confidentially, and I really hate redundancy, even though I often live it in action, not in imagination.  And although this piece of fecal history resurfaces, this is the first admission.

The Lord of Fuck understands the risks.  There are some dirty, cheap whores out there who want it in the ass for Five Guys.  That’s how good those burgers are.  I was only horny the first time, but she was horny all the times.  It may not have been what I wanted, but it was what I needed in retrospect. I was looking for a dirty, cheap whore, and in another way I was a DCW myself, but that’s not the way it was in my mind when I approached the situation.  I hadn’t conceived of a world in which love was to be so toxic before, but this was because of phallic hubris.  I didn’t think! I was drunk! I was a willful idiot!  Thinking highly of myself, despite lust, an animal nature.  I thought ‘lust for life’ was supposed to be a good thing, but I’m just discovering that entire concept is based on a fruity Iggy Pop song and an old moving portrait of Van Gogh by Kirk Douglas.  ‘I’m not your audience!’ through denial!  What does the Lord of Fuck understand?  Don’t drop the bowling ball!  It’s Saturday!