I want, I want.

-William Blake.

So the deal is, we go home get naked, wrap ourselves in tinfoil and attach strobe lights to our heads. Then they will KNOW that we are serious.
-Porn outlining his master plan to me in the middle of a rose patch at 1am after sighting a UFO.

Wish that I were you. Just for this moment. It will pass. I need it to pass. Or it may up and kill me.
You would love that.
Tiny dishevelled dreamlet. Everything about you owns an ice thin edge of perfection. Your mutilated beauty. Your drunken angry haircut. It all fucks with my tender padded periphery. I am drawn to the people I want to be and the gap between us so wide you could not hear me screaming my desire hoarse from the other side. So glaring that it provides no service than making me uglier by proxy.

Another lazy day of not being able to make it out the front door. For some strange reason our dryer is in the back yard. I got around to laundry. The radio in the kitchen is on the Jazz station and I am now sitting in the doorway to the grotto garden while my rags tumble dry like flimsy gymnasts.

The sun is playing fucky with my shoulders and Jay is sending me really off colour jokes on my phone so it’s not all that bad. Am I going to make it to the gym? I doubt it to tell you the truth. I find myself waiting on the rebirth that is looming round this time of year. Just knowing that it’s almost over.

I hope to fuck that I don’t die while living here. Bar the 2 tiger fish that I committed to a watery grave, all pets that pass away here are dried and placed on the mantle. Marcabe? Yes but also somehow oddly touching. I was struck by a vision of myself slowly roasting and drying next to the recently departed Fillet [a catfish] and taco-taco [a shrimp] I would end up with my head on the wall…. a pointy stick up my ass, in a jar.

The room that I am sitting in has been done in the same colour scheme as my beloved Ranch. It’s the 1st time that I have had a home in so long and it relives me. I have come home. I feel useful and easy here. Supported for no personal gain. Finally a family that likes me. Quel sigh. I know that I am a little far gone for such longing but I will take my teenaged kicks wherever I can get them.

I feel like jumping on my bike and rolling from house to house but I think I will wait till the sun goes down. Maybe I should be out the back working on what significant other calls my Jenna Jameson tan line. Wish this thing had DVD drive. I would prop it up on the toilet and watch porn in the bath.

Still cant afford to pay my dentist. Im sure that she will survive with the prices that she is charging. Mmmmm Tony Bennett making me get all swoony and chiffon swishy. This is where I stop. Where I am at rest. It wont last long so I am gonna roll with it.

I discredit myself a million times a day. My scars are itching and I am not wearing pants.Again.Heh.

Like I told you Ash is home soon and that means that I can’t put off recording with him anymore. The line that keeps coming up is “You can’t get there for here” Really weird fatalistic shit that I don’t ever want to try and explain. Just tapping the plague vein again.There are a lot of people around me who do not want to see me happy because they think that the words will dry up. That I will drop out. I wish! There is no chance. I grow on, as do the things that make me crazy.

At lest I have the balls to throw myself under the wheels again.

So I am wondering what is gonna happen when Sir Pointy and me end up in a small room again. I always tell myself that I am not gonna let him get to me. Lets see how I go with album number 4.Good god! Number 4 .

I think that all the shit that went down on the road will make a strong showing. I want to call it “Year of betrayal” Which will get crapped on by the rest of the band . as always . A democracy with a dictator. At least I know where I stand now. I will just cheat on them when I fancy. All the songs they reject I will resurrect at a later date as a fat guitar slinger…. really.

I loved singing at those last 2 shows so much. Just to feel the swell behind me. I think that it had a lot to do with Miss Suzanne’s stripy tights as well. That was the swell of the BAND by the way looked a bit perverted when I re- read that.

My Xmas list this year is as follows
1-Jessica Simpson’s teeth. Not her actual teeth but ones that perfect.
2-iggy pops metabolism.
3-Angelina jolies mouth.
4-dreadlocks that behave themselves.
5-68 mustang.
6-To release “Sicksence” on the perfect record deal.
7-To go out on the road in high style with my favourite bands.
8-my Sleeves finished.
9-The cover of Rolling Stone.
10-Cash.
11-a 12-year-old slave boy called Hassid who is utterly devoted to me and knows how to peel a grape and makes the perfect cup tea.

Ask and ye shall receive and all that shit. Butt crack is sweating and there are half smoked joints on the back step. Learnt how to play “Don’t Cry” by GnR the other day. I so want to shake Izzy Stradlins hand. What a guy.

Perfect line of crosses down my sternum.

SF4L . Michele.