Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I keep forgetting to write in this thing.  Today was weird. At 8 in the morning this chick from work, who I’d only met yesterday when I was making a million tapes for the MasterCard creatives, had the nerve to call me at home.  At eight in the morning.  She wanted me to come in "as soon as I possibly could," like I’d really be able to fly over from Brooklyn in ten minutes.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Bill went off to see the Blue Jays, the Coyote guy’s band, at Continental Divide. He’s been bugging me to go see them but I’ve had clubophobia.  So I’m sitting here listening to a band playing two blocks over in some new space, must be right by the Coyote studios.  I’ve heard the same band practicing there all weekend and they sound slightly better now that they’re playing in front of a crowd — they’re finishing their songs anyway.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I’m starting a new diary because I keep forgetting everything that happens to me. My sense of time is totally fucked.  I can’t tell the difference between yesterday and two months ago — guess it’s all this hash we’ve been smoking, ha ha.

I still work at Lintas.  I say that because I sincerely hope that when I next read this, I will be the fuck out of there.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

I had written Teller a fan letter, asking him if he’d please go roller skating with me.  Heheh.  Barring the skating idea, I implored him to please write me back, bragging that I’d once gotten a long hand-written reply from Quentin Crisp, and complaining that a fan letter to Dwight Yoakam had gone unanswered.  What an excellent man, I can’t believe he actually replied to that foolishness! I will love him forever.

Marker and whiteout drawing circa 1990

A pencil drawing I did using a plastic Godzilla doll for reference

Colored marker drawing

Crayon drawing from sometime in May ’86. Based on a dream I had, that I was inside a Houston theater watching a stage production featuring a bunch of pink pigs dancing and flying around, just like at a Pink Floyd concert. :-)

Colored-marker drawing circa 1984

I was seventeen when I got this letter from the very funny and eccentric bon vivant Quentin Crisp.  I believe what happened was that I saw an appearance of his on Letterman, where he mentioned that his phone number was published in the NYC directory.  On a lark, I called New York information, got the number and dialed, and sure enough he did answer the phone.  Not really having much to talk about at that moment, I told him I was a fan and asked him if I could write him a letter, so he gave me his address and I did just that.  I was so excited that he wrote me back!  But I never did come up with much more to talk about so the correspondence ended there.  Bless his heart.

(Over at Crisperanto.org there’s a whole section devoted to Quentin’s letters, including this one.  It’s good reading, I recommend you go over there right now if you enjoyed the one I got.)

Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

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Note: This is a journal entry — it was written on paper or on my computer, then transferred to my website, maybe years later.

Got it.

I was born today.  :-)

(I didn’t actually write this journal entry on the day I was born, obviously. Just marking it down here for reference.)