getting ready for turkeyday

Today I visit the farm and see how my little plumpadeer is doing.

We've named him Fred. We picked him out some time ago, based soley on the look of his egg- its the most organic of ways.

Fred has had a steady diet of corn, squash, nibblets and rasberries for that extra flavor. He still has a few last meals though- about a month and a week. A week before "his big day," we add a spoonful of brandy to his diet. Again, this will bring add to an all around flavor.

Crap. I lost my train of thought. Hmmm. Well, today is a pretty day outside. I bet I'll go for a quick bike ride.

Hey, did you guys like my blogs better when I was parading my ventures as a womanizer? I feel like you did- like when I was writing about neighborhood occurances. It felt like I was telling ALL of our stories, in a way. Now I just goof around.

Hmm...okay, okay, okay, here we go. I haven't been drinking too much, so I don't have that great of stories- except for last Saturday night.

I went out with a lesbian to some Park Slope bars. I had my hair back in a pony tail, wore a scarf and let one braided strand hang low. I wore the New Jersey tuxedo- jean jacket and jeans. I felt like the prince of Bagdad, way before the modern era. Let's say, in 1284 a.d. (the Muslim culture at the time was far advanced to most others--- including their understanding of irony and making fun of N.J., somehow it was/ is intuitive).

So we went out, we drank. We look fondly at women. That's it.

Shit. I got nothing, sorry. I am dry. No more alcohol fueled expiditons and memories to fall back on when writing. I must tally forth with entertainment......tally ho!

Roger wrote me a letter the other day asking for his $12 back. I replied, sealed the envelope, dotted the "i" on the exterior flap, and out it went. I wrote back, "sorry sucker."

I received his reply to my reply by email. It was this: : (----

I didn't know if he was sad or hitting on me. So I replied with this: "I don't know if you're sad or hitting on me."
/
/ /
He replied with this: *)-+~~~~~~~~~~---
/ ..
/

And that was that. We are no longer friends, AND I did send him the money back to make sure not to hear from him again.

(how was that? Funny? Anybody out there? Cyber-void!!!!!)

Oh, I have to run to a meeting. Peace!

*********** you'll have to trust that the symbol man I made was totatlly lewd! I just can't get it right this damn blog editor thingy! But man, it was totally, totally lewd!

Cesuo Zai Nali?

bop-a-lop bop-a-doo. Bop-a-lop-a-doo. Jazz, jazz, jazz....just warming up the hands and vocals before I proceed with another fantastic blogging. Me me me (sung in triads chromatically ascending).

I, I, I (thoughts of what pleasures may come tonight)

U, U, U (how I'll steal kisses from your mouth)

We, We, We (how we'll be caught in the bushes by your mother's boyfriend's searchlight).

No, No, No (how we'll plead he won't spill the beans).

Ney, Ney, Ney (how we'll plead in Czech, just in case).....

Columbus Day, people. The big CD. I've been waiting for this day to come for 356.25 days, and I'm giddy as Andy Roddick's Labrador on Christmas (I imagine this dog retrieves sport important tennis balls).

Why the love? Because Columbus was not only a great explorer who fought the odds, but a visionary.

See, Columbus didn't want to find a new world. He just wanted to find India and China, right? This is common knowledge. But did you know that Columbus carried a letter? It was from the mystical queen of Europa United. She is an underground, but transcendent queen living in the roots of the Swiss Mountain Life Tree-thing. She is what keeps it together, when she keeps it together.

So, he was delivering a message from her European Highness to the mystical continental queen AsiaAsiaAsia (big continent), and this message? It was the oil to anoint a new continent epoch ruler.

See, every epoch / age / era has a continental ruler. It starts with big organized culture and civilization and all that. So, take my word for it, the first spot was in China and India through a combined powerhousy-dealy. And then this AsiaAsiaAsia queen/entity gets bored and passes the buck West through the mid-East and the Mediterranean and passes the buck onto the emerging Europa. But, see it was like the lend lease act. Because it is lending, she wanted the power to rule back at some point- for her people's sake. She’s a good mom/ figure / type.

So yeah- Columbus, message deliverer. A kind of mystical / political / off course Samuel, if you will. A John the Baptist, who only lost his head, directionally. A Sally Struthers infomercial, aimed at the people, not the concentration of the people's power through the government (that last one doesn't hold, I know...but I won't edit it out. No, No, No ((us agreeing (((through singing))) that it won't be edited out)).

So yeah, so basically, yeah. He was supposed to deliver the letter back to China / India AsiaAsiaAsia and this visionary ASSHOLE, decided to go across the Atlantic instead of the normal trade route East. And you know what happens? He gets out in the Dominican Republic area, and spills the seed all over AmericariremA, Continental Queen of the whole Hemisphere. And so here we are today, prosperous and leading the world as the only super-power, because mystical / delivery boy Columbus took a short cut.

But as we all know, and as I've been trying to get at, but I find that you're not following me and that I have to keep backtracking….that China and India will soon enough rule the world when their gigantic populous emerges from their own "Industrial Revolution" and we'll all be speaking Hindi or Mandarin, depending on who wins their 4 or 5 wars (I'm betting on the Chinese- and learning Mandarin each day - through fortune cookies.

“Cesuo Zai Nali?”

(ps) pretty scary with North Korea, right? Maybe he really wants AsiaAsiaAsia to get that anointy thingy back quickly? Scary. Crazy people shouldn't be in power. They should be left to drift off in their imaginations like me.

I'll stick my face in to see

Who's to say what is real and what isn't? Me. Because you're on my terrain right now, and so here we are. Follow the Leader.

See that bush over there? The one with tiny pink blossoms? Upon closer inspection we see decay, slight wilting, frosty dew. We further inspect the specimen, licking the rough dew drops....sweet....a tad tangy....odd.

Let's insert our hand into the bush. You go first. Deeper in, please. Push through the bramble. Anything odd? Hmm....yes...that does sound odd. Perhaps that's a squirrel licking your fingertips. I'll stick my face in to see.

(pushing my face past the exterior leaf fortification, dodging tiny trunks and sticks and bramble, bobbing and weaving as I move to the center of the bush. I see your hand to the right of me. No squirrels here. The liquid you feel comes from a single leaf. The warmth from the center of the bush has completely melted any dew, which drips down and pools upon this leaf. I think it likes you. It has the appearance of the Queen Leaf and her highness is fawning over your pointer finger*. I take my head back out of the bush).

So that's that. You can take your arm out now. Let's go play. I have a rehearsal at 1pm, so there is time still for a quick bike ride. What says you, knave?

Yes, in reference to yesterday's blog, I'll be skipping the Renn Fair today. Eh.

*if anything, it's like the cartoon squirrel in the Disney King Arthur, "Sword in the Stone." Remember when Merlin turns little Arthur into different animals to teach him lessons? And a squirrel? He runs around the tree and this female squirrel sees him and has a crush on him. But little Squirrel Arthur doesn't like her and he tries to shake her off and ends of breaking her little Squirrel heart. That made me sad as a child. It still does. That queen leaf is like the Squirrel is what I'm getting at. Or maybe you were, last night?

** squirrel is one of those funny words if you look at it too long….

yes, one of the funniest and most dangerous combos ever is the D&D Fantasy player on PCP. Don't worry about ole' Gabriel. He is fine and dandy. Sure

Don't worry about ole' Gabriel. He is fine and dandy. Sure, he had a speedy, demony, drinky bike ride home last night with a stovetop pot for a hat. But it was all practice for the joust.

Yes. The joust. For tomorrow by thy Renaissance Fair in Washington Heights! Yippieth Skippieth!

Come all ye knaves and friars and.....ballhohooians! Let's make a pilgrimage through the "A" train to a land transformed. We'll eat fantastic meats; meet fantastic actors with magnificent accents and tights and weapons and hair weaves.

We'll pick flowers and run from those tending the flowers. We'll recite sonnets to each other, and although we don't know sonnet form, they'll be lewd as nosotros please!

(I wonder what ole' Spanish sounds like? Just more lisp?)

So, whoeth amongsth thou will join me in this quest? Who is strongeth enough to face an hour train rideth with me in costume-eth and mannersith?

On a side note, I was at dinner party last night and between sips of a wonderful Cote du' Rhone, fiercely holding the peppered steak and Wisconsin twice baked potato in duck gel together, we conversed on a wide range of socio-conceptual topics: foreplay if you will to the brandy crumble coffee ice mink-wraps for later.

I "caressed the outer labia" of the conversation with this statement:

"Remember when we were young, hearing about how Dungeons and Dragons players would use PCP and then think they really had those powers and go out and punch through cop car windows, and swing maces around and dress up and so forth....?"

Funny, right? Because as this musing continued, we realized that, yes, one of the funniest and most dangerous combos ever is the D&D Fantasy player on PCP. He he he....I'm thinking about it right now....hardy hardy ! Funny, except to the loved ones who get in the crosshair of the crossbow…or magic wand....or elfish boots......har...).

I did have another wonderful realization that resonated deeply to my understanding of relationship, shyness and so forth. I can be obnoxious hitting on lesbians!

Man, was I jerk last night! Or, no, I wasn't a jerk, but I was one of them cocky guys to this girl. Why would I finally act with this uber-confidence and not all the time? Because she ain't interested in the first place….so it’s comedy. (Or was it, Gabriel? This is your interior mind writing back, and I say Balderdash. You hit on her like that because you were drinking the darkest of dark rum and just played your best game of ping-pong ever. You asshole, fess up. You are a drinky monster, Mr. Jekyll / Dr. Hyde. After not drinking for 2 weeks, you're back and behaving poorly. And that bike ride back home was dangerous! But so much fun.......LET'S DO IT AGAIN TONIGHT!!!!!!!)

He, he…little cameo from my interiority- hope that came across clear (me too). How many voices are in here, and what separates me from the crazies? (At most 3, and you never had deep childhood trauma, therefore never having to depend on the other voices to deal separately with reoccurrences of the trauma. Lucky you).

Woah! This baby is getting long. You still with me, mein Readership? You look good today, by the way. That dress is kicking! Hmm....want to come see some weird videos with me? Sit back and relax....oh? Is that my arm that just went around your shoulder.....oops did that hand just rest on your thigh, I was reaching for the popcorn. Might as well leave it hear and enjoy the ride....

oh Suzy Tuesday

What a gig it was last night? Can you believe it? I knew a few people were coming- but I was actually overwhelmed by the magnitude and love in the room. Actually.

Lola cranked up for the first song doing her patented "lawn-mower" dance move and wa la! We were off and running on high octane. It was crazy- because I haven't practiced in a few days, but my fingers found the mark fairly well. Stain Bar! Man, their mulled wine is dopeje (czechlish for "dope").

I do love the fall, but does the fall love me? I ask this question once again peering out my window in a break from my personally bad work habits. Running the gambit of distractions, I should harness the power and focus on a single distraction. If only I could get my (Anthony's) bike fixed- that would take care of so many things.

I ran into a friend on my way home from Williamsburg. Let's call her Suzy Tuesday. Suzy was waiting to meet up with a manfriend at Blue Ribbon. I said that we should get a drink at Great Lakes until he arrives- I'd even let her pay. She agreed. We sat and talked and found out that the Masons are opening up a bit more to the world- it was fun. She told me her friend spoke to G-d yesterday during Yom Kippur. I wasn't impressed. I was skeptical. I know I shouldn't have been- but I can be a real jerk with my mug of cider and flannel waistband.

She said she wished she could talk to G-d. And the conversation went on.

She wanted to call the manfriend again- get drunker- go to him and straighten all the relationship thingys out. And I realized something......something deep.....something deeper than deep....something G-dly.

I said "Susy- don't go to him drunk. You and I both know he stood you up and it’s happened twice and a guy speaks with his actions. Don't go to him. You want to speak to G-d? G-d's right inside you and in your decisions. G-d’s that self-respect, that joy in simple beauty- that love that you feel for yourself. You just have to feel through the filth of self-pity you wallow in."

I harkened back to a previous reference "Suzy," I says, "Maybe he just had a great inner dialogue with himself. See, right now and right then, well, we can all have an inner dialogue with ourselves, but its when we see our limitations but have the faith in the emotional feeling of purity and joy for joys sake- then we are doing something holy...something G-dly…see past this dialogue / rationalization….we know there is something sound inside of us….reach for that souniness……does that make sense?" I'm not sure to this day (the day after) if it makes sense.

I said finally and most forthright, "don't go to him. You want G-d, well G-d is now." She wringed her hands, pleaded with me, said, "I know, I know, but I'll find G-d tomorrow. Tonight I want to go to my manfriend."

I really did my best to convince Suzy Tuesday that she shouldn't go to the guy drunk- that she should at least wait till the next day. I don't think it worked, but I tried.

See, I'm that guy who helps others with their self-actualization instead of working on my own. It's so easier to prescribe the answers to others, because then I feel like I kind of helped myself, but without having to change or do anything real.

he he he......oh well.....I think I'll take a nap.

Have you ever blogged so hard- it hurt?

Have you ever loved a woman so hard it hurt- and then tried to write about it; and it hurt more?

Because you're trying to express everything in your heart, and writing wrings it out like a sponge, but then you just have a digital mess of unrelated garblings.

....."Love is a panther- UHauled me."...."misers never love, but you were gold to me"....."davey crocket in a jump suit sent from a cannon of love, my seed to thee"......

For instance- the above writing makes no sense. None at all. And sometimes this hurts- constructing your life to follow a narrative logic- and to convey this to both yourself and others- to feel purposeful AND entertaining. Tough stuff.

Well, I had a dinner party last night; kind of rad. I wish I had invited you, though. I feel kind of bad. Don't be offended, but we were serving meat on meat on meat.

We used hamburgers as plates- bacon for silverware and carved out walrus tusks for cups (still considered meat cause it was still attached to the heads). Yes, we mixed cheese on everything- I don't keep kosher.

Isn't it funny that I think eating pigs is worse than eating shrimp on the Kosher scale of things? It isn't. Trefe (non-Kosher) is trefe, I don't think there is a degree of wrong here (although I think cannibalism trumps pork for sure- that I'm sure of. Absolutely).

Hmmm, sometimes you contradict yourself in the middle of a blog- and it hurts.

Do you think when I send out a resume, the employer searches my name in myspace and reads up on me and my zani (and innane)ness? That is why I changed my headline to "separate the artist from the art." I heard the Boss (you know, the real Boss) say it in an interview onetime.

Springsteen trumps real bosses. Matter of factuality.

I think I'm going to see Object play at Trash Bar tonight @ 9pm. Want to come? Should be a rad show as always.

Oohhhh, Lola & Gabriel are playing a couple upcoming shows at Pianos. We are opening for some guy on the 16th, and then its our baby, I think November 18th, just need the return confirmation, a Sat. at 9, I think….yea!!!!!!!

Are you going to come see Lola & Gabriel at Stain Bar this Tuesday? I might sing a very personal song about Angels, Ice, Trains, Etudes and such and such. I'm a little nervous. I should go practice.

…Oh space-angel-blog-attendee, you love me don't you? You'll always be there for me, in the midst of hardship and shiphard? Sense and nonsense for nonsenses sake? Sensei sake? Sofa-loren? Sleep.....can't fall back asleep- have photo research to complete.

You reading this, Christine? Aren't I so responsible in my work, and so odd in my blog, which takes part of the day in which I should be working?

What is this thing called "life." Backwards, it is simply EFIL. Pretty deep, right?

I stop now.

BACK AGAIN, BABY!!!

well, I stopped posting on this because I didn't think you were paying attention to me, and wanted you to know what a life without me was like.

Then I got lonely for you.

So I'm going to continue posting my myspace space postings and repost them here, as well.

Because I love you.

And I want you to love, just like I love you.

my cabinet position in your Necropolis

I don' t mean to be too hilarious or nothing- but I remembered a past thought yesterday and thought I would share today.

I was taking the train home with my brother. I asked about his job. I asked about opportunities and tried to say "nepotism," and it almost came out: NECROTISM!

Hilarious, right? If I am too rule the world (and G-d willing it will be soon- see last post about possible skin cancer....no joking around here....).....so yeah, if I'm to rule the world, how about a system of Necrotism?

George Washington will once again rule as a President, of sorts. I guess.....um.....Thurgood Marshall.....he's going to be Chief Justice this time......Brando's dead right? I guess I can make appoint him as a Labor minister-thingy.....

And you know what? If I do have to go and leave this existence a little early due to a cell rebellion, a physio-civil war on the battlefield becoming my arm: well, maybe someone out there will return the kind favor, the karma, and appoint me some position or honor in death. Any of you guys Necrotists? I plan on leaving a handsome corpse, even if I have to do the makeup with one hand, as I nail the coffin shut with the other from within.....pretty gruesome, right?

What happened to poor Gabriel, that he would be so gruesome? Its a combo.

1. Unemployment is tracking me. I was unemployed for a few months after being let go of my previous photo research job. I stopped collecting payments, but I never made it clear in their records that I was back to full-time work. A former part-time employer contacted me that they contacted her. Eep!

2. I've been reading "Les Miserable", and that Javert is pretty intimidating. I think he's after me. It's like my cousin Frank was fonding of saying "I have reverse paranoia: I keep thinking I'm following someone..." Well, for me its the reverse, reverse. I keep thinking I'm following someone who is following me: a physic worm ouroboros.

Maybe this phenomenon will reach beyond the grave. When I get my cabinet position in your Necropolis, I wonder who's going to sit next to me. I hope she is (was) pretty. Oohhh, pick someone pretty to sit next to me! Someone who died in her 20's, or early 30s. I suppose an older woman who died of too much plastic surgery has prospects....

Well, time to start the day. They are playing the movie Dracula with Philip Glass's score on top at the bandshell today in Prospect Park. I'll be there and square, but have much work to do beforehand....like walking around and thinking of funny word-thingy's

Lets see, got any yet......"tulips" sounds like "two lips" ......hmmmm.....
....ohhh I just got one. It's about 3o minutes since the original post. I received a funny email from Stacey warning me about the new "Jews for Jesus" campaign ads. Then I thought, what if I get one of their shirts or something and cross out the "f" in for?

JEWS OR JESUS? Hardy hardy hardy har! Pretty good, right? Do I still get the job in your Necropolis....

storms a' brewing

Let's begin with the begining. i am tripping. Not from a chemical intake, but over my own distractions and lack of smart choices. My repeat fallings have left me knee-skidded and down-caste-glancing....

Was it wrong to dream? To dream that I could sit at my computer all day, completing nominal work, remain addicted to all the knick-knacks of cyber space, and mount vast credit card debt at night through my freewheeling, womanizing ways- all while still being able to lift my head the next day with a semblance of stress-free pride?

"A salesman’s got to dream," A. Miller once wrote. A salesman’s got to work to first be a salesman. I need to get out of the house, I tells yeah.

I ran into the sister of an old school chum last night. It reminded me of things, nothing in particular, but a vision is forming… a wooded creek area. It is dense with vines, shrubs, possible poison ivy. The water flowing through has swelled from the previous night's storm. I am in overalls, unabashed. I have a straw hat in hand and a rake. I am planting tiny, green seeds.

I am on my hands and knees, pushing one seed into the moist, dirt whole, about three feet from water. I actually feel my shoe has moved into the creek and is now soaked. I pull it out quickly. I say, "what the fuck," unearth the seed, eat it and splash into the water. I splash and splish and splash. I am put my head under. It is fun.

I let the current control me, and I dead-man float along with increasing speed.

….passing under bridges, past boys fishing and families of ducks. As I move along, I hear frogs jump from their mud hideouts and into the creek to join me.

Did I mention this creek isn't more than five feet wide? It's a creek. It’s small.

The woods on either side of the shore thin out and the half-hidden housing developments disappear from the periphery. The fauna and flora turns to tall grass- marshy-like. This is okay. But the splashes of my frog friends is getting louder, as if heavier bodies are joining me in my splish splash splash splish.

The creek is becoming wider, too. Am I in the Raintree Lake of my ocular youth? At the distance shore I see an outcrop of rocks with boys hiding, quickly looking around, and setting off fireworks. I see one of them stands at a distance, hands in pockets, shoulders huddled, crying. Does he not like the noise? Or the attention the noise could bring?

I hear the distance sounds of a tennis match. The bottomless swish of racket thrown in anger / paper cups, drawn from their dispenser and set on fire by more teenage boys.

I feel that slime of a body of water, set upon by every shoreline with easygoing mannerist garbage-painters- Seurats of Litter recreating space with each casual wrapper toss. I am covered. Just covered.

Thank you and have a banging Saturday! Don't forgot to look for book in stores; "Gabriel Caplan: Shylock / the Merchant of Venison" where I serve up more delicious and anti-structural sentiments from the shared experience of suburbia.

And don't forget to look yourselves in the mirror before going out and practice saying, "do I really need another drink to feel attractive?"

Oh, and don't forget to tip.

day 1 w/ pimped myspace layout (not so good)

(to note- I post these posts on myspace- because why not? And I made my myspace space all pertty yesterday.....and so....)

...still feel kind of dirty. It's that pull between innocence and experience that Mr. Blake spake and drew about.

I like the glitter of the page, and the arrangement of my projected personality, don't get me wrong. But in general, I want to huddle against my knees- fetal, and cry.

I want to hold myself so tightly, and hold it so long that a thin layer of dust becomes crust and I'm encased on my kitchen floor- a shell to rehatch from.

I've counted my fingers five times today. They're all still there. My toes- not so good. I have a blister and infection of the Big Right. I've performed open toe surgery to drain it. I'm telling you this because it is true- not because you want to hear it.

At least I haven't pimped everything about myself. I'm still dirty dingus McGabriel- in some ways. Or have I just hit rock bottom and am confusing my repulsiveness for the last remnants of dignity? I'm that clear, cool liquid in my Big Right, my writing the result of the infection, the infection a result of environment, the environment a result of will power, the will power a result of the conditions of humanity, the conditions of humanity the result of G-d, the G-d the result of the conditions of humanity- and so forth and so on.

Last night I did see a nightingale from my stoop. He crouched over a branch and spit worm parts into a hollowed hole. I was wearing night vision goggles; I saw it all- in an infrared kind of way. I may have been imagining things in my techno-delirium, come to think of it, but I'm pretty sure the bird turned its pertty head clockwise to me and said, "you're next." I ran, as I am apt to do in these blogs. I ran, goggles in hand, and handed them to the local restaurant owner, Bruno, on his corner. He had customers and paid me no heed, which was smart- because my hair was flying after me, chasing me in delayed, wind-gushed grasps at my scalp.

I'm afraid. I'm afraid that the hair has taken over. I'm afraid I pimped myself with style and little Gabriel is gone, the way that all dodos go: into cliché.

*send help.

...or maybe our dreams unlock the secret reality of another, parallel exist.

First of all, I don't appreciate your smug attitude. Don't get me wrong, I like it; I just don't appreciate it. There is a difference, and I refuse to go to the dictionary to defend my position. Don't be smug. That is all.

But yeah, just got back from North Carolina the other day. My arms are tired. No wait, I FLEW in from North Carolina....that is what I meant. My arms are tired....because I flew.

Hey, anybody out there drinking? Don't forget to tip your waitress. So I've been playing music again. The wife thought it would get me out of the house, and out of her HAIR. Women! You can't beat them, because that is abuse, but you can't join them, because the insurance won't cover the Gender Reassignment Surgery. So what can you do; but blog?

Which is funny; because I need to do another things then butt blogg. Sometimes I feel like that is what it is. I've processed the experiences of the day/week/month before; and this is my waste. Butt Blog. Gross, I know- but Comedy Isn’t Pretty.

Wait, that is a Steve Martin album, that’s not my line at all. Man, is he funny or what? How I miss “The Three Amigos”. Is that what I dreamed about last night…….?

I remember being on the set of some film, in costume, with two others (maybe my brothers). And then three girls, in similar outfits want to sit down. Somehow I am informed that they are doing the sequel to whatever we are shooting. It’s a scene out of “The Chipmunks Meet The Chipettes”; or whatever their female counterpart was called (oohhhh that Brittany; such sass!).

So maybe it was just a weird dream, or maybe our dreams unlock the secret reality of another, parallel exist. Perhaps in this Platonic/ Ideal world, the 3 sisters that counterweight the 3 brothers of my own family exist. This world is but an echo of the ideal world and all I have to do is find the 3 sisters, partake how I’m supposed to (which will be determined through subsequent dreams) and piece back together these parallel worlds that for some reason need healing. Or something. Hmmm…….

I'm an unrequited revolutionary.

Donde esta Gabriel? I know, I ask the same question in English.

I've been around. Around town. I've been lurking, hiding in shadows, under willow trees, appealing to squirrels to return the grape sherbet I spilled on their acorns.

Fall is a brewing, my friends. Collect your nuts.

I ask you this: is a man any less of a man if he is empowered by his weakness? I was walking around 5th ave in Brooklyn, as I do. I was looking into some wine shops, thinking about getting part time work AND learning viticulture (and hauling boxes). You know, these freelance checks take a long time to come through....so some part time work would be nice*.

So there I am, outside one wine shop, actually on 7th ave. I look in. I see my partial reflection. I run. I think to myself, "reality and life experience can only be stretched as far as you stretch it. You are relegated to monotony and failure through your fear to try something new." I punched myself in the head and yelled out, "how's that for something new."

I scared a few mothers and their babies cried. I was a sight, all right. That is why I have gone back into the shadows, back into lurking.

I love Apple, but those fuckers are taking WAY to long to get my computer fixed. It's supposed to take 10 business days. I finally called them up and I'm told I'll get it on Monday. Hey, that's 15 business days. No fair. I'm a fucking freelancer. This is my life, here!!!!!!

I'm an unrequited revolutionary. Why won't the world revolve me back? I give people great advice about how to approach responsibility, love and truth in their lives. And here I am, short of rent and still in my underwear, with a bathing suit on my head, ready for anyone to call me and tell me to high-tail it to Coney Island.

(how do you spell "woah", like "woah is me" because, that is what I want to write, but thought I should check first).

HEY ITAR, you out there reading this? Arf. That is all I have to say about that, Itar. You know who you are.

More to write, but I'll save it for another blog. I've been told nobody reads these things if they see they're too long.

Best,

Gabriel

*send help.