A Slow Day in Hollywood

--I'm staring at curtains.

--I'm watching a "Fey" Video
("Lentamente"-- perfect, just fucking perfect)

--German's such a sexy language. Large hard breasts. Black spiked panties.

--I'm thinking of lying under the bed. (It's safe there. Where the dogs go when the Pirates shoot up loud-colored vomit.)

--I need some anti-aging cream.

--This ink's running. I am so damned ripped.

--I'm watching New York goes to Hollywood (bent over and whining on a treadmill. O, Tiffany. O, Tiffany. no, not really.)

--Maybe I should go downstairs and count birds.

--I get so many emails asking me to go back out on tour. Yawn.

--It's snowing somewhere. A bird flying up over the snow. No.

--My asshole's itching but I'm too tired to roll over.

--And now I'm listening to Elton John's "Original Sin"



Oh, it's carnival night
And they're stringing the lights around you
Hanging paper angels
Painting little devils on the roof

Oh the furnace wind
Is a flickering of wings about your face
In a cloud of incense
Yea, it smells like Heaven