Friday, July 26, 2002  
that is how it all began, with a sunny morning and the taste of dried fruit in my mouth. it is all a mystery. the bed was suddenly empty and the hours seemed to take years. i washed my face and assured myself nothing had fallen off. the test was over, the time to fight gone. so i sped out to the volvo cross country (awd, leather interior, surround sound, shimmery silver-on loan from the dealer for a paid ad i did for them) and drove to stare at construction sites. this one in particular was a chuck arnoldi original (he studied under gehry and he really impresses the ladies), i watched as young mexicans hoisted three quater inch particle board sheets to the second story. even the best is still built of pressed wood, the same i buy at the hardware store. just heaps and heaps of scrap that sometimes get turned into works of art. some of us are made entirely of art from the beginning. you know what i am talking about if you fall into this category. the flaming lips cd just keeps playing. private jets fly overhead as i step on slivers of broken chanpaigne bottles. my nose starts bleeding for no apparent reason. i turn my head to see a dog taking a shit and his master taking a piss behind the telephone pole. a fat man is suing mcdonald's for making him get that way. the cracks in the sidewalk are growing and i visit this place from time to time, just to keep it real. to fight off the robots. really that is all you can do, that and dress well. which i do, especially today-jil sanders pants and a tom ford original design up top-can't call it a shirt really-that he gave me in miami last fall. just be strong, victor, it is only a phase until the movie comes out.
7/26/2002 08:52:42 AM / 2 comments

Monday, July 22, 2002  
one good day, that is all i ask, with wild eyes and blood gone white. what do you want out of your career? i want to not speak of it in a negative tone. the hphone rings and i sit back and wonder why. picking through the used cd section at amoeba, i ran into lauren. she had a red streak in her hair and blue contacts in. she said it was for a movie and looked at me in that way that was so obviously telling me to ask more. my eyes went wide and i pulled out the new cd from arco, a really delicious brit band, and yelled at the top of my lungs just how hard this cd is to find. she was crushed and mentioned something about heath ledger and silver lake and how so and so really cared and i was sick in the head. did you just say radiohead? i love them too, check in the r's lauren, we are in the a's...she just sauntered off in her homemade patchwork skirt and leather bracelets i actually wanted to steal but my hands were full with cd's. the street was crowded but i was fine in my new puma's, they are fast and tend not to squeak, so i slipped across cahuenga and wandered what cecile was up to, i knew she had bought a house around here that you could hear the music from the hollywood bowl on her back porch. she dumped the rocker for something that started with d and ended with s, but she would not tell me what. the math was too hard. video's of police beatings are all over, dollar signs are flashing...these people deserve money? i have suffered. pain and sufferring? try and be me for half an hour. you are lucky that we are so afraid to piss anyone off. here i am though, so bring it on. i will piss you off.
7/22/2002 09:03:17 AM / 14 comments

Sunday, July 14, 2002  
slow down idiot. i was just crossing the street, late (only by minutes, good for me and days like this), and the door stop failed again. take me out and laugh while you do it. you picked the wrong time and the wrong day to make me cry. not that i have real tears any longer. we sat and chatted and walked the streets together. she had the turkey lurkey and i had the muscle bound (i told the waiter i am already there, but i take all i can get). spent most of the time wondering why my phone was not working in the back booth (the brickhouse, cool photos by local artist as the art on display this week). i took only three calls the whole lunch, none of them really mattered, but the outside told a different story. the weekend was adrift, researching aids and how the world fears it. thought of magic and how he got cured. it was all a hoax, i just wonder how much the government gave him, i personally feel over a billion, others thought lower. the perfect specimen to spread awareness, at the end of his career. how many ways lyndon (bandmate, new band, we are choosing a name) could kill me at home depot, striking me with any object only counts as one. so, if you hit me with a hammer and killed me, that would be one, but a sledge hammer would be no different? exactly. poisons, chain saws, weed whackers. when we arrived he yelled across the parking lot i never thought of tilling you to death. good one. i sat and watched the skill saw and the meth head who worked it. we had seen each other at auditions, but that did not matter now, he was at his "day job," even thought it was 10:30 on a friday night. we sped off and went to axe, the new bar/nightspot, and sipped guinness out of a bottle and played quaters with an unopened condom. you try and matter, but we all can't be magic johnson, and have our terminal diseases slip into oblivion after the 15 weeks of fame it brought on.
7/14/2002 06:04:29 PM / 4 comments

Thursday, July 11, 2002  
so sad so sad with all the pent up anger and the freeway fights. they flick me off and really never understand the meaning. wait a minute baby, i am what you want. the chocolate milk tasted funny and i read the lable a little closer-"a product resembling milk." we fake what is best. it even had more fat. a new trend: me being able to pick out the age of anyone on the street. sonic booms that shake the neighborhood and disturb the helicopters and fruit flies. i have to clean out my fruit bowl nearly every afternoon (the summer sun heats the dining room-double french doors that flood the room with light and heat). someone yelled from another car as our fight brewed that they loved the new billboard, it was well lit and something else but the traffic picked up and they sped off. i tried to see what kind of car they were in to see how i might take the compliment, but there were just too many. someone called claiming to be a long lost brother and the caller id confirmed his identity as such but i was soaking and trimming nearly a month of facial hair (have you seen the brad pitt photos?). floating. floating. picked up a graham green novel and rehearsed a scene for my class: two under age girls come over to my house for shots and dancing. i try and call some friends but they just want to make out. the teacher tells me my scene would never be released in the united states, the girls crossed into "your erogenous zones too often." i say they all do baby and he yells something about the new "lolita" but my pager went off (two way from motorolla) and realized i had not heard from rinna in a while. she was in town for a few nights only and then back off to south africa or south america, my pager cut offf. either way, sushi for sure tomorrow, about 1. baited breath and i sauntered out of class a little happier, but if you had seen me (...) you never would have known.
7/11/2002 07:12:46 PM / 2 comments

Wednesday, July 10, 2002  
listening to npr and the way that grand master flash changed the world. mostly it was a way to get the traffic out of my head on a trip back from ikea (cheese grater, dough knife, three small plates)...the dough knife for my new fascination with flour and french bread, preferably dipped in boysenberry jam with a hunk of authentic brie cheese. i eat only a few ounces a week, but it really needs to come from my oven. lauging out loud when "mr. flash" explains it "to the whites." there are no blacks, but whites are fine. i am just biding time until i have to write my million dollar check. look, i feel bad, i really do, but i never did anything, mr flash, i don't even know any slave holders. he just shrugged it off and described the difference in needle shapes: conicle and j-shaped. i fuss with my hair and wonder what i would look like with an afro. sometimes it is just not fair. it all seems to be a reenactment, with dramatization written across the bottom of the screen. as if i need to be told. this really is not for real, i get more and more chances to make it all right, it just never seems to come together. armani begs for my attendance at the espy party, joe roth is hosting something in malibu that the hoffmans will surely be at, the mandatory trip to the OBGYN (she needs moral support, things just should not be touching her organs), ties in baseball, mr flash, and fred segal. i picked the wrong week to quit with the vices (all of them except coffee and possibly play station-is that a vice?). the gym is overrun with autograph seekers and body builders. i bump into the rock grabbing the curl bar (50 pounds-light day) and audibly ask him what color he really is. he turned up his eyebrow and said, "we are the future..." i asked whos we baby...he smiled and said something under his breath about that damn vin diesel and i knew right then and there that for the rest of my life, i will have to see movies with vin diesel and the rock as the protagonists while i shuttle off to my pepsi audition. the vultures roost on my shoulders. i fill in the holes from their tallons with silly puddy. it gets a laugh...
7/10/2002 02:27:26 PM / 2 comments

Saturday, November 03, 2001  
hurry hurry we have to see things that have been for thousands of years and will be for thousands more. they sat and crumbled. i was again jealous, how i wish i could just let it all hang out, sit there and rot away while people watched. mostly they do, i just halt the breakdown as much as possible. the center of religion. the center of art. my mouth hit the ground just once though, inside the sistene chapel and all its redone glory. i lost myself and my shadow, which is really all i had left to lose. i plodded on unaware of the pace and the justice and the market street crash box...get in get in get in. buckets of beer and lines to cut, i really had given it all up but it changed my mind yet again. no one really asks me anything, they are too busy trying to blend in while i take (and get) all of the attention. not that i don't deserve it...watched it all from above, like a birdseye view, jugglers and gold chains, pizza dough makers with nose ring genius...stepped out of the hotel and left a surprise, just put in the bin with all the other lost items. plane to london and my favorite hotel and the blank white mask that is now my face all dishevelled. met old friends and found new ones and on our way out picked aloe and rubbed it on our faces and elsewhere. cashmere coats to our knees were worn by all, as if we never even got out of bed. wrapped up so tightly we just forgot that we could never get a cab this time of night. furniture stores had lights on all night, b and b italia here in london. the sex shops. go home. if you can remember where that is and if it was ever there at all...
11/3/2001 03:27:30 AM / 5 comments

Friday, November 02, 2001  
wake up calls and distractions of empty beds: a window view of the canal below where silver eels danced in the morning glow. up and down through the muck and high water, i was jealous for a while. hurried down by a need to breath (the smell can really get to you) and miles to go, stopped for a view of the pigeon shit. they sat on my head. i turned and ran with kernals of corn and walkman radios to my name. they chased and flew, flapped to new heights, but again i prevailed. the married couple took me south, through traffic miles and florence all the way to rome. we stopped only once for food in the form of matter in the shadow of the duomo in florence. things i said both in the car and out of it-this trip is to slaughter, you don't look crazy, fight like hell to get out of here, baby...all muttered and useless. no one is really paying attention anymore. even when the louis vitton bag was left outside the embassy, she just dropped it and walked away. this trip is to slaughter...this trip is to slaughter...back on the highway, wife and me in the back seat, and into sleep and books and fire water. i grabbed her thigh one too many times so they dropped me off early. she was blushing, not yelling. he had had enough of it all...lyrics in my head that day kept playing over and over...one day i am gonna grow wings, a chemical reaction, hysterical to useless...i could not hold in my laughter and the gnocchi was really not all that great, so i sat and watched the sunset from a hill in rome. packed in tight with the touchy feely warmth, gucci bags and nose rings. thought of people at home and the names and numbers came and went. lauren called from class, sleepwalking and by the time i hung up i was unsure i had even been talking at all. i think i assured her she matters and exists, even on this continent, but i may have been telling her about a grafitti artist that was making waves outside of pisa. i could feel her laughing or keeling over with pain. last night i dreamt of her, but woke up forgetting her name. wanted a ride on a scooter (when in rome...) and got more than i bargained for with two students, kisses and promises of more when we got home. i really did not have the time or patience so clapped my hands and went off for their ice cream. i can't believe i have gone this long without lip balm. today there will be more ruins and guitar playing and taxi rides i can't pay for. fortunately, i am fast...
11/2/2001 01:30:28 AM / 8 comments

Wednesday, October 31, 2001  
out of my head and out of this part of europe (too far north for my blood, whatever color it may have been/is), moved south into italy with cougar eyes on the distant sky. the way the blue folds into grey and the water from clear to brown. i sat back on the train and past milan it got interesting. she was with her family (brother in the next seat) but her eyes were with me. back and forth and when the tongue ring came out, so did my opening. we flirted and peek-a-booed while her little sister watched it all, learning. stow it away young soul...we crashed into venice with little daylight to spare and lost travelers to meet. the sexier version of rachel leigh cook awaited (in every way) for a gondola ride. she was german with sway and style...bulletproof. we toured the city while the gondolier took phone calls...things have changed. music was on her soul, so mine came out as well. we stepped in piles of skined potatoes and bought halloween masks (blank white faces) and walked all over venice, spooking the locals and each other. the water only splashed me once or twice, hidden away from the searchers. photographers controled spotlights from overhead, i just pulled her closer. low level sparklehorse on the headphones. dinner left me hungry for more so i broke down a couple for fun...she wanted out anyhow. i could smell it and her eyes kept lingering below my belt, along with her hand for half the dinner. we laughed and drank hundred dollar bottles of wine. they paid...
10/31/2001 04:31:20 PM / 8 comments

Tuesday, October 30, 2001  
stumbled out of bed right into the car that wisked me to the station for a train i wish i could have missed but someone was yelling that i really had to be on it, so i obeyed and fixed my hair a little (it does not need much) and with a wink was off up the coast. after what could have been two hours i got off in figueras and basically i forget from there. loafs of bread kept me out of the house of art (daliīs shrine to impotence) and the car beeped and i jumped in again to be swoosed further up the coast. i found sunsets and sea breezes that nearly knocked me down, or was it the lack of life. people muttered phrases like "ragged american" and "he should really smile more..." i took it all in at a restaurant overlooking the cliffs with light beer and supreme curry. the nights with others are fine and good, a little victor time is certainly in store, but they just keep crawling out of the woodwork, calling from camden and london and so on...i borrowed a kids bike and did wheelies in the town square of cerbere while i drank beer with locals. they all cheered when i fell and helped me up with incredible unity. the tunnel of death brought me out on the train to bern, sleeping car for me, without the old naked man. i took my cocktails elsewhere and read aloud to the whole car. they burped and chattled and i opened my eyes to the sun rising over lake geneva. sometimes i really should pay more attention. with all the bullshit flying, all the women to climb on, all the answers and room service, its all put into perspective. i just wish i had some more time. there never is enough. gondolas and air raids, snow covered mountains. snap snap could you take my photo? all from 12,000 feet, the top of europe. word has come back from paris, they want me back. my wake is one of glory...i look really amazing.
10/30/2001 11:48:06 AM / 8 comments

Monday, October 29, 2001  
the wheels come off...my nose bleeds. took a flight to paradise only to find it buried in an ocean of mediocrity. where do we go from here...search the port towns and paella bunches with lost service and salsa beats. smoke your cigarettes and help me with my leather corset (its not three sizes too small) and stop yelling at me. there really are beautiful things here, just not beautiful people. guadi did it right in the middle of the city but wait until after for the beers, the spanish donīt care if you fall down the spiral staircase...maybe someone will push me. i long for paris women but the phone never rings. land of the dufus boyfriend...i slept alone and woke with blood stains on the pillow. possibly from the damage done to my eyes by this horrible place (self inflicted? fork in my eye?). i shamefully move up the coast with a loaded weapon and the keys to a house on the coast (next door to dali's)...she really was not worth my time, but the house is right on the water...
10/29/2001 02:07:01 AM / 8 comments

Saturday, October 27, 2001  
standing at the end of the line, looking for something and then she leaned in to play a game of kisses and kicks, lick slap silly. the light just did not shine. she bit my neck and i never really learned her name. she thought she could win but the hickey on her neck and the bite mark on her chest were certain signs of my victorious ways...she went back to her goat cheese salad with her head down, love bite still glistening. i asked her gaggle of friends to the paul oakenfold show with two kinds of bleeding blood...the best of the lot was engaged, magic nonetheless. the teeth bite the hand and shackles hold them still...for the most part. kind and gentle at their feet, or so they think. who really knows the truth anymore, too many lines have been crossed. in the morning i saw the only thing worth seeing in dublin, the guinness brewery, but funds and time were low, i had forgotten other people not only exist but in fact get in my way. i brushed by them with camera in hand, another boob tourist with no answers. i poured myself a pint in an empty bar (closed for repairs but the taps worked fine) and drank to nothing. cabbed up to the airport with headphones and dishonor while the rest of the world napped as usual. their faces blue from the television screens i want to be in...the flight to barcelona took time and my luggage (i sit here with it left in london)...who will i slay tonight. possibly me. it just may catch up to whoever i am...
10/27/2001 03:00:36 PM / 8 comments

Friday, October 26, 2001  
left the paris nightlife and all the beautiful people with the dog shit streets and the museums i did not have the time for. i really did not have time for myself at all. i shut my eyes most of the time threw the dart and fortunately ended up in dublin, where guinness flows a little too quickly, even for me. i slogged a few with famous clowns fiancer (not for long, i fear, she just looked at me that way) and ugly red coats-fashion has not hit these streets. the morison hotel leads a life of twitches and ticks, all with great furniture and bad lighting. she just laughed as i checked in with bags that smell like the night. lost with amiable but ugly folk, i got my bearings with clinched teeth and a little pick me up by the name of paul oakenfold. walked on stage to blinking lights and him warning the crowd was already his, moments later, it was mine. boxer trumpet dance and sweat beads. very little to talk about or look at, the music too loud and fantastic to think of anything else...the power all the sex you can get in dublin, don't ask. last night was weeks ago. the time just goes so slowly that i forget where is next and when tomorrow is...i hope to find out soon and leave the motorcycles that follow far off in the distance...
10/26/2001 08:31:42 PM / 8 comments

 
van goghs in the city that i think of sex. he sells it best, all short brush strokes and ear loss cavities. i sat in awe of the canals and the devices of torture for sale on the street corners...why live anywhere but here, but alas i sail on...tired of the soft calling card. that is where it all changed, for the best, in the train station on my exit. i traded a song for one of hers, and she won hands down. all dread locked and spiced up for the time on stage, she earned it. i sat in awe afterwards...she rolled a cigarette with air in her heart and lungs, i hope i caught some. slept my way to paris. i think. the surface was a little cloudy and the models were too gorgeous to see even the eifel tower. we talked of dying for ten seconds and the light in your eyes. i told a man on the street his dog had the biggest balls i have ever seen, all in twisted french, while the romanian model kicked a trash bag like a soccer ball. we laughed and fucked and she took most of my clothes. create an ice pick simplicity to kill the bugs with hammer strain wash cloths...the same club and the same women, only better looking, done up for thursday (wednesday is for wankers) trying to impress the saudi kings (new friends, for life, i am afraid) who let me drive their ferrari's and smoke their cigars. i just pushed the gas and shifted with my fingers. all the girls looked and wanted to be me...you get used to the noise of the buildings and the hip hop and the eurotrash. certainly i am deaf because of it. things lost from my bag: green stocking cap, delicious helmut lang sweater, virgin atlantic sleep suit. someone followed me on a motorbike for miles. they sent the dogs to attack as i shoved some other model's hand down my pants in front of the louvre. it was 3 in the morning but we had hours to go. room service took too long but when it came we threw it around the room upside down and took pictures of it all. my phone rang at 6 with the louvre wondering if i really did exist while the other girls laughed and begged her to come over until i convinced them my room was full enough and i was tired of losing clothes and my head over women who are taller than me (and most of them are)...they all feel like butter inside and out, roll over too early and never turn off their cell phones...ring ring ring answer the goddamn phone. well, its not supposed to be off, he may call from new york. wiping the sleep out of my eyes, i kicked them out and packed naked for my plane to dublin. the view from here is entirely too good...
10/26/2001 05:45:01 AM / 8 comments

Tuesday, October 23, 2001  
resurfaced tight lipped and dutch television star worthy (apparently only for a kiss on the cheek to lips to back down underground, extensions in the hair and really not a laugh in sight) so we headed home, our fearless leader and all the answers. but before that, we did amsterdam, in fine tradition, pomp and circumstance...dinner (at kitch) with wine galore and goat cheese pasta salads (one for the table please)...i checked out as usual. no names were exchanged. smiles came and went. payed our bill in a flurry of guilders and went on to the red light distric past onlooking whores who really have the best view because they don't have to listen in, just watch...into club rosso for live sex now here this way open to the public, we bowed our heads and snickered, only a little jealous he was not us. spinning bed...turn this way please. we watched (only) and ran along the canals to cleanse the dirt and evil. picked up students on the way out for a quick walking tour (cute as can be), put them on their bus, and went back to the club where my camera man awaited (how did i escape so easily). he just snorted and marched away. i danced to shake off the cold both of the shoulders and the air, sweat my way right to an underground birthday party (he is 28) and begged for kisses but only got one. an early night.
10/23/2001 08:36:15 PM / 8 comments

 
sleep walk central to supper clubs with hamburgers better than we do. its all media types in here, you will fit right in or get kicked right out. fortunately, we settled right in the middle...kept in but by the silk of my scarf (which is the second victim of this trip-give it back give it back give it back, fuck...areyoureallyworthit) we changed shirts, her's agnes b, mine costume nationale, she barely looked, but i saw the others nod approval...nice bra as the waitress tried to look away, black tank top a little too tight and ripe with sweat drip drip drip...we never changed back. we might never. she and her cronies then dragged us away from the dressing room restaurant (soho house) and the hardwood floors to faux lights and tits pressed on my dick in the back room- 20 quid gets you more than enough mate, i just nodded and grogged away, with all of them salivating at the idea of me...you get used to it, the mindlessness of it all. you crave it...only one came home, but i made a good choice and she woke before the sun and had i woken up to see her leave i would have noticed she was still wearing my shirt. so you thought london had its share of ups and downs (been mostly down around here) we slogged off to amsterdamn...only a plane ride and traffic jam to this spot to dinner tonight and underground later...
10/23/2001 10:28:01 AM / 8 comments

Monday, October 22, 2001  
screaming kicking and dragged right into the most beautiful hotel in the world-hostels are for the poor and ugle-don't get scared off by the stuffy stuff on the outside, the isnide is ripe with hardbodies with accents so i joined right in. the home house in london, by the bar, with russian bartenders and bloody marys that burn. indian food with seven or eight, they came and went all with names that i lost (along with my hat, my favorite, so in for now)...it gets hard sometimes, so i turn the other cheek. the one with the name was all legs and candy canes, an israeli accent mixed with king's english. i lost my top too quickly, it was gay night at fabric, where we danced and groped and got under each other's skin. she was a cancer who like long walks on the beach, not that i cared, but the silence was really killing me. dreamt of camden and the snow and how little i want to get back, or leave this town for that matter. off again tonight, the guiness just arrived...
10/22/2001 12:27:58 PM / 8 comments

Saturday, October 20, 2001  
cattle prodded off to the unknown with bags and condoms and friends that i have yet to meet. it all makes sense with this fire in my heart. i just don't know who to trust right now. the pilot. the fowards or the backwards. we will meet. i assure you of that. it will just take a little time to get there. with all the airport mess ahead of us...god, it is just so small right now and i forgot to take the slip stream. again you two step right out of my head. were you ever there at all...i guess we are starting now, i have to go be me with all the answers and too many onlookers. stewardess? another glass, baby, the good stuff this time, i can smell a fake from anywhere...even over there here where are we going again.
10/20/2001 01:22:35 PM / 3 comments