ITEMS FOR A NEW GAME

A child age 5-9, an adult diaper, and a syringe.

THANKS, CRAFTY LADIES!

 Thank you God, for the resurgence in clothes making and design by just about every gal on the block. Designing clothes is responsible for bringing so much fun to people! Wow. I can count on my fingers as well as my friends' fingers all the clothing designers that are out there--and it still wouldn't be enough fingers. I just keeping running to girls wearing funky shirts and then asking my friends to hold their fingers up for counting. Thank you Women, for getting back into knitting and all that. Now if you could only do the same with cooking!

 Sadly, I'm almost completely unable to design clothes myself. It seems as though I've got nine thumbs and half a pinky finger when it comes to sewing. That doesn't stop me from pulling a bunch of fabric scraps out of a shoe box under my bed and laying them over my naked body. Just imagine what it might look like were I able to sew string or whatever it is through them into a snappy pattern. It's at that drunken moment that I can close my eyes and cry to the room, "I design clothes!" After that, I put the scraps back into their box and just cry to the room.

17 JUNE 2001

 "Take my photo." Steve sat on a bucket and rolled up his right sleeve. I was beginning to get used to the Polaroid. He lit a cigarette and put his arm up, flexing his small bicep like Charles Atlas. I loved his confidence. Not that I wasn't confident; neither of us gave a shit about what anyone else thought. But, I liked that I had a friend who was as equally attractive or unattractive as I.

 "No, wait," he said. He walked to the portable turntable we'd set up on the roof that morning. "Let me turn the record over." This particular record came out 13 years before I was born. My parents owned a copy but I'd never taken the time to listen to it until now. It was great. I snapped off a polaroid as Steve dropped the needle.

 "Dood--"

 "No, it'll be good. Sit down anyway." He sat down and rolled up his sleeve again. "This way you've been smoking the cigarette for a minute and it looks more legit." He grimaced and I took the photo.

 "Has it hit you yet?," he asked.

 And then it hit me.

I AM A FAMOUS PHOTOGRAPHER

Well, not famous exactly. My flickr account is watched by over 150 people. By today's standards, I may as well be famous. I'd love to share the address with you but the photos I've taken are of nude people. And if others were to find out that I photograph more others in the nude then the others might find out who the, uh, "more others" are and that would be trouble for both me and my subjects. Also, unlike other modern photographers and flickr enthusiasts, I certainly will not be taking photos of my "pals" in the pub, drinking Guinness and looking dopey. This is my artist manifesto!

KLORN VS. S.W. IN 19995!!!

 "If it isn't the creator of the Double-X.5 Lamborg-ini Ray..." It was Snapple Wigwam, the hottest zero-g prick-tease this side of Chilimac Gamma.

 "Need something glakked, Snapple?" I said. She leaned in, pressing her mini-knee into my laser-bone. The thought of her feathered muff--rumored to be the most similar to the feathering worn by young human women during the original 1980s--made my teeth itch.

 "Skeletonskeletonskeletonskeletonskeletonskeleton," said Snapple. "Lancelot Link already gave me rabies." She secreted a green drip of honey dew nectar from the mini-knee. She was already glakking.

 I'd heard that President Link created a smokable form of rabies popular among Pluto 3's gigolos. I had no idea it made its way to Star Sector Zagnutt's cyber ho-bags. I'm betting the vigilante police don't know either. Or they're hooked themselves.

 I reached for my portable Double-X.5 Lamborg-ini Ray and fired off a quick blast at Snapple. It ricocheted off her cup of DR.PEPPER14.7.5 and hit my bionode.

 "I...I thought...condensation was made..illegal...three...light years...ago..." I managed to sputter.

 "It was," Snapple rasped back. "I mean, IS."

TITA, COLORADO

Our food bag went
missing last night.

"I'm hungry,"
I said.

Maggie turned, took
my arm with her right
hand,

squeezed my bicep;

"Sit down."
She pushed me
to the earth.

"Eat this."
Maggie paused
as she heard music
leave the woods.

"Hey."
She called to me.
"Eat this."

Maggie stepped behind
me and I turned.
An axe and
my mouth.

My lips split right
down
the middle

I coughed once,
lungs filled with bad
smoke

and I lay
on the earth and
fill up.

MAL AMOR, MAL AMANTE

We could not agree
a trip to New York
a bucket of mussels.

We were lonelier after the fact.

I was lonelier,
especially so.

No,
you were
so lonely

so lonely.

You hated
the bucket of mussels
and I thought

"it could have been
better."

SCRIPT EXCERPT FROM "ROUGH PATCH"

DEIRDRE: "...hazy Amtrak... we fell asleep in those cars... railing through... Mississippi... never saw a plow in person before... we could stop somewhere random... get an apartment... do it straight...."

EVAN: "--but making eggs over some liquor store in a small shit town was laughable."

DEIRDRE: "...always laughing... red faced from in-jokes and cloudy eyes... didn't know if our families cared if we were alive... always too hazed out to remember to call them...."

DRAFTS

Doing well. Work

I've felt kind of braindamaged and

I dunno...when you said you had thought about stopping, it kicked me a bit.

And I don't think I'm bad or about to start doing heroin

Since I've been working out lately, I've felt healthier an

Wine is going to stay in the picture. Haha. I really enjoy it too. Otherwise, yeah, it is something I'd like to try with you.

ME AND YOU

floating in a crooked canoe
swirling in the crick
we ate grapes in the dark
and ritz bits
,
but you know
I really love
the box for
club crackers
almost as much as
I love
club crackers
themselves.

We came home and
screwed around with the cats
sticks
and smoke.