Quan came over this morning and fixed a leak in the house. The neighbors balcony needed caulking. There’s a joke between the upstairs neighbors and us that every problem around here is solved with Quan’s caulk gun. Today reconfirms the rumor.
p.s. I finally bought a new digital camera. This picture was done with the iphone, and came out alright, but that’s because the sun was shining directly on him. I got a Canon powershot 10x whatever 8 mega something awesome it works. Prepare for better.
p.s.s. here’s a youtube link to a show we did in Berkeley a few months ago. I call it, “I’m curious about your camera”.
Saint Gregory and scribes, from a book cover made in 900 something. For hundreds of years in Western Europe only high order clergy could read and write. Not even Kings had this power. It must have seemed like mind reading to explain to an ignorant farmer that the symbols contained thoughts, that the thoughts could be taken from one brain and interpreted by another.
Now it’s possible to detect what your brain is thinking by attaching electrodes to it. I feel like an ignorant farmer now. So I wonder why we don’t celebrate people in front of computers the same way early craftsmen celebrated writers hunched over paper.
I suppose that’s how the Church stayed so powerful. They were the first corporation. They controlled information. I drew a sketch, maybe someone would like to carve this scene in ivory? Now most everyone can read, and is the Church that much weaker? Do we really need to keep people ignorant? They’ll do dumb things anyway.
Been waking up with sore teeth lately. Grinding them at night. Nervous about something. Not sure what. Yesterday morning I woke up with this thought in my head: bacon rose. When I told Will, he said, “Makes sense. People love roses and people love bacon. Both the sight and the smell.” So I’ll try and make a bacon rose this weekend. I have a small gas torch I can hold over uncooked bacon pre-formed to the shape of a rose. From there it’s as simple as sticking the bacon onto a rose stem.
14 foot boat in a 12 foot box
Still lookin’ for a truck. Went to Pacifica and checked out an old workhorse, ten gears with a PTO dump. (The bed raises by using power from the motor.) I’m startin’ to learn about what I need. Sounds spiritual or somethin’ but I’m just talkin’ about how there’s a lot of different trucks out there and each serves a different purpose.
For instance, I don’t need an old wood chipper truck. The wheels stood four an a half feet tall. I had to run and jump to get in the bed. Won’t be any fun throwing a load up and over into that one. But having a ten speed would’ve been nice. 5 low and 5 high. Granny gear. You step onto the external gas tank (there’s a 30 gallon tank strapped to each side) and climb into the seat.
I went further down the line and checked out that ’51 I showed you yesterday. That was a wreck. Squirrels hanging out and snacking on all the wiring. Stuffing half chewed nuts into the pistons. They stole the radio. But it was a beautiful day to drive down the coast among wildflower covered hills, in and out of redwood forest, sweeping corners that reveal teetering old barbed wire fence posts falling like a line of drunk soldiers.
Locke lives down in a holler not far from that rusted old thing with shredded tires. Pulled in and bounced along a washed out dirt road till we got to his place. You’ll see a bunch of old cars and boats tucked under some oak trees and then four or five mowers lined up and an empty trailer and a duck pond a little bigger round than a kids pool. Then there’s Locke’s place. Built it himself. Has running water and electricity and some plywood laid down over big holes in the deck. Heats it with a stove and wood he takes from neighboring ranches.
To make a long story short, one that involved a pot luck and wine and bluegrass music, he ended up helping me load one of his old aluminum boats in the back of my box truck. Which may be more fun this summer than another vehicle.
I’m goin’ to check this out tomorrow! Runs, needs a new rear end. $1,000!
Dave works security at the event. Stands out in the hall making sure no one wanders off into a room they shouldn’t be in. The armory is vast, a sprawling compound with a swimming pool, shooting range, horse stables and barracks. Tonight we were in the shooting range, off in a corner well lit with high intensity film lights. They look like cannon mounted to the rafters. A semi circle of chairs two rows deep are almost filled with guests who’ve come to watch a woman be tied up and fucked. A different woman stands behind a bar and serves cocktails, on the house. I order a rum and coke and it’s strong.
I drink it fast and have two more before I head into the hall to use the restroom. Dave smiles and says hi. I stop and talk, and learn he plays in a band. “Psychedelic Disco Ball,” he tells me. That’s the name. He’s on myspace.
It’s been fairly normal. I signed a release form standing in the break room for employees. They had a Coke machine and a coffee maker. The same Workers Compensation Law poster on the bulletin board all my other employers have had. No nudity. An ad for a box turtle someone is selling. Invitation to a “How to” on enemas and scrotal enlarging. OK, that’s odd. But for the most part things seem normal.
Then three guys who’ve been previously screened and tested take off their pants and stand in line to have sex with the woman. I’m watching the muscles in the guys back move as he strokes himself to stay hard in line. Audience members are encouraged to come up and touch her. The woman sitting next to me has done this before and tells me the whip marks sting for weeks.
Kink.com headquarters in San Francisco, an old armory
I got an email today…
“You’re on the official guest list for Public Disgrace’s next Live Audience
Shoot featuring Princess Donna, Sarah Shevon and Benjamin Brat.
This is a Formal event, please dress up in Black and White, preferably all
Black, no colors please. If you don’t own such an outfit please let us know
before Thursday and we will see if we can help.
** You MUST bring 1 form of original ID with you.**
Notes on the shoot:
This is a 21 and up event.
FOLLOW THE DIRECTOR’S INSTRUCTIONS!!!
YOU’RE FACE MAY APPEAR ON CAMERA, NO MASKS ARE ALLOWED.
See you soon!”
That means I’m going to watch a porn shoot tomorrow. I’ll keep you posted. I’m scared that I’ll never want to cuddle with a woman again.
photo posted from my iPhone
Will and I were weeding a patch of dirt, basically…about one foot by four feet in the middle of the city and found this snake. Was about a foot an a half long at most. A gopher snake I think they call them. I think I nicked him with my lopers, there was a good cut on the lower part of him.
photo posted from my iPhone
invisible angels riding motorcycles in the sky?
photo posted from my iPhone
If you’re having a bad day, it’s probably not fair to say, “At least I’m not like that guy,” and point at the guy on the stretcher with a smashed up car left in the middle of the road. How can that really cheer you up?
It happens though. I wonder why I’m still renting at my age instead of paying a mortgage, and then I say, “At least I’m not renting something in Oklahoma.” One of the steps to maturity is to not compare yourself that way. Let people be who they are, and be happy with yourself. Don’t laugh and shout “Sucks being you,” at the man in the neck brace as he’s lifted into the ambulance. You don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t suck to be him. Try and be happy with you.