08 April 2019

HELLO

Uh. I’m going to Portland next Friday, being the 19th, which is not just any old Friday: it’s GOOD FRIDAY. So Easter Weekend, baby . . . and 4/20 (lol).

I am, apparently, hanging out with my friend Sarah Pardini’s lieutenants, and I guess we’re gonna make some stuff. They want to take me to, uh, Lovecraft Bar, which I somehow managed to avoid going to when I actually lived in Portland. I don’t think I steered clear on purpose, but maybe . . . I have mercifully forgotten most of the Bad Stuff, which was Most Of It.

And Monty and Marguerite and I are going to go on a bender at a tiki bar called Sandy Hut, and then end up in a cemetery by my old house . . . and Molly and I are going to slink down into the basement of Elvis Room and lose our minds in the neon dark. Hey, that all sounds real good to me!!! (Molly, don’t you remember we met at Lone Fir Cemetery? At like midnight or some shit in October 2016? You were pretty drunk when I got there and you were dressed like Wednesday Addams. Man, that night ruled.)

ANYWAY: Let me know if you’re going to be around cuz I sure as hell will be!!!!!!!!!

08 April 2019

Last night I went to my friend world-famous visual artist Sam Spano’s birthday party. He’s 32 now apparently. I’ve known this dude for a long time, what with him having worked at Donut Farm many years ago, and having gone to grad school with my spirit-sister, who is world-famous French Canadian multimedia artist Laura Rokas.

And anyway, when I stupidly left Oakland a few years ago and spent a miserable rotation around the sun in Portland, I gave Sam Spano my old room in the house I shared with Laura and Tracey. Man, that’s just about the best house I ever lived. Laura painted an emblem for it and everything, which I had originally asked her to make to put on the hood of the Doomsmobile, but then it was stolen (lol). See here:

Well, this son of a bitch, this Sam Spano—he still lives there, minus all of us! It is a strange sensation to revisit my old house and sit inside of it, and so on. Sam kept it looking real nice though. Yeah. That dude is cool.

We drank a bunch of wine and a bunch some other thing, which I have forgotten, and which I had never had before. I had my own bottle of PIG WINE, don’t you know, and some fuckin Thai food I’d brought from Tuk Tuk in downtown Berkeley. And in this state, in this dreamy state, with my blood full of alcohol and my stomach full of noodles, I remembered there were things all around the house that the three of us had left when we left for good. I remembered the lucky cat sculpture Laura had made of her cat Boyboy and I wanted to take him home. Little Boyboy statue was still there by the stairs. I asked Sam if I could take it and he walked over and gave it to me. I put Little Boyboy on the armrest of the couch and hung out with him all night. See here:

Boyboy is in my room now, on the shelf across from my bed, surrounded by other little animal sculptures I have. I love him. I have been asking Laura to make a Dante lucky cat for a billion years, and now he can sit next to Boyboy . . . so hopefully this public post guilts her into it. Though, Laura, if you’re reading this, and I know you eventually will, can you make Dante into a tanuki statue instead? Like this:

I would scream. That would be so cute. You got to leave off the enormous testicles though, cuz Dante hasn’t had any in like eleven years.

How can I end this post? I need to go to sleep. OK, here’s a 140-year-old Japanese woodblock print of of an umbrella-wielding tanuki using his gigantic balls to ward off some stupid idiot jerks who didn’t know what they had coming to them:

Happy birthday, Sam Spano. You’re cool. Please let me hang out in my old house more often. Why aren’t we doing more shit together?? For god’s sake man, I’m right down the street from you.

And Laura . . . get to work!! Dante demands it. Yeah~

07 April 2019

i have for many years romanticized doing drugs while wandering around alone at night in california

sometimes the dream of it in my head comes very close to what i am experiencing in reality, and i don’t know how to explain it, but it’s just a nice peaceful feeling to me

i love walking through oakland and berkeley all spooked up and dreamy with nothing to do and nowhere to be

yeeeaahhhh ☆彡

05 April 2019

Like most others, I was a seeker, a mover, a malcontent, and at times a stupid hell-raiser. I was never idle long enough to do much thinking, but I felt somehow that some of us were making real progress, that we had taken an honest road, and that the best of us would inevitably make it over the top. At the same time, I shared a dark suspicion that the life we were leading was a lost cause, that we were all actors, kidding ourselves along on a senseless odyssey. It was the tension between these two poles—a restless idealism on one hand and a sense of impending doom on the other—that kept me going.

Maybe there is no Heaven. Or maybe this is all pure gibberish—a product of the demented imagination of a lazy drunken hillbilly with a heart full of hate who has found a way to live out where the real winds blow—to sleep late, have fun, get wild, drink whisky, and drive fast on empty streets with nothing in mind except falling in love and not getting arrested . . . Res ipsa loquitur. Let the good times roll.

mmhmmmmm

04 April 2019

NOW I’M LOOKING FOR
THE DUM DUM BOYS
THE WALLS CLOSE IN
AND I NEED SOME NOISE

where did y’all go

i need your noise lol

03 April 2019

laura found a picture of young misfits-era glenn danzig that pretty much looks like modern-day me

03 April 2019

I have been riding my bicycle every night. Before I leave, I roll a joint and tuck it in my pocket and put on my headphones and walk my bike out to the lot. Then I smoke a little and put on a 45-minute-long album and ride out across Ashby Ave. and deep into Berkeley. There is a bike path behind Strawberry Creek Park that I take, which goes way the hell up there, maybe all the way up to Richmond, I can’t remember. The path runs behind houses and community gardens, and eventually beneath the BART rails, and on and on, and it’s very beautiful. . . . it intersects with a few basketball courts here and there, and I’ll stop and sit on a bench and get spooked up on the spooky stuff before I get to riding again. Most of the time I don’t see anyone at all. I always go it alone because no one will ever ride with me. Cowards! It’s real nice, though, riding along in the dark, haunted to oblivion, and listening to good stuff, and so on.

Last night I put on ANOTHER GREEN WORLD:

. . . which is about 42 minutes long, and which accidentally covered my entire trip up and down the bike path last night. ‘Sky Saw’ began just as I rolled out of my lot, and ‘Spirits Drifting’ ended just as I rolled up to my front door. Wow! It was a fine moment to be alive. And what with me being ghosted and haunted and spooked up and all that, I allowed myself to believe there was some significance to it . . . the significance being that I thought it was cool and nice!!

I always get emotional when ‘The Big Ship’ comes on. I was just getting to Strawberry Creek Park when that one came on, and I sure did go right ahead and tear up a little. I don’t know, what a moving piece of music, dude!!! What a thing.

LAST NIGHT, on my hazy bike ride in dark trees, alone because I have to be alone, in another green world, cold and tired, and with the big ship wavering into my mind, I thought, you know, what the hell . . . this is pretty good. I felt glad to be out there just then. I guess sometimes you’ve just got to admit that to yourself.

WELL: Good-night~ ☆彡

01 April 2019

I sometimes have this dark suspicion that one of the reasons someone might be Into Me is because they saw a vampire movie when they were going through puberty (lol)

01 April 2019

I AM THE WAY INTO THE CITY OF WOE.
I AM THE WAY TO A FORSAKEN PEOPLE.
I AM THE WAY INTO ETERNAL SORROW.

SACRED JUSTICE MOVED MY ARCHITECT.
I WAS RAISED HERE BY DIVINE OMNIPOTENCE,
PRIMORDIAL LOVE AND ULTIMATE INTELLECT.

ONLY THOSE ELEMENTS TIME CANNOT WEAR
ARE BEYOND ME, AND BEYOND TIME I STAND.
ABANDON ALL HOPE YE WHO ENTER HERE.

“Here you must put by all division of spirit
and gather your soul against all cowardice.

This is the place I told you to expect.
Here you shall pass among the fallen people,
souls who have lost the good of intellect.”