Small Ante

Joe from "Klonopin" took this photo of me in my alley.

Now he won't talk to me because he's psychotic or something, as if I didn't know.

Makes me sad anyway.

Living for Them Hoons

Every time my boyfriend sends me pix of our dogs, I tend to delete them. I think, "Well, they are there, accessible, etc..." If I'm wrong, and I probably am, here they are. Hubbly Bubbly (how faggot can I get) is the Rhodesian Ridgeback; Arbutus is the Shepherd-Husky mix; the adorable Mr. Percifal Aloyisius Beauregard Clicky is the Dalmation / Greyhound mix. I'm wearing Hanes' undies, if that counts. I love love love these dogs. I have two cats; the dogs ended up with the boyfriend. We're all rejoining in short order, if things go right. Anyway, Hub is 18 years old, Arbutus is about 15, and Mr. Clicks is around 12. They are all rescued HOONS. They might be the best part of my life (and I'm not subtracting the cats, but they're another post). Three dogs of breeds that don't usually live past eight years, and we've still got them going ten years past that dumb number. Same with the cats, but, yeah, another time.

Can You Explain?

The cover for my book "ACT" in the previous post somehow got all color-fucked by Blogger. Basically, the purple stuff is deep red.

Gush

It's been too long since I've bothered with this, but fuck it, who reads it anyway?

I got what I thought was a toothache two weeks ago. The next afternoon, my right ear was gushing blood. And I mean gushing. Doc's decision: I'd damaged my tympanic membrane. I don't know how. I don't stick things in my ear. No one fucked my ear. I think I'd remember that. I had zero hearing for about a week, which was scary. Now I have half-hearing.

This has decimated my concentration enough that I can't get the new piece 'daveDave' to Dave to see if he actually wants to do a monoprint or some image for it. I wanted to send that to Dave, then to Dennis, then to Aaron, along with the first chapter of 'ACT.' It's all good work, and I'm a fucking braggart, but the opinions of those in the echelon matter very much. For now, this is the image for the cover (six inches by six inches, at least for the mock-up) that Mr. Hebb and I have settled on. It needs the back cover blurb and some praise from the uppers, but we'll get to that shortly.

Now I have to do antibiotic eardrops. Life rules. And that's not a joke. I could be dead. I just have an ear infection, and it's making me act and think like a five-year-old boy.

Maybe

I thought I might read this older piece of mine, way older, as a finish to the reading parts of Det. Userlands. Still considering.

Seal Deal

Last night was the final (fingers crossed) Userlands trailer film shoot. It was the "complicated" scene that was supposed to involve me, a burlesque dancer, a phallic prosthetic that seals my mouth shut, and that sort of fun. The burlesque chick didn't show, of course, so we just went with the flow. It was fun, but I'm still exhausted. Having my mouth sealed shut with makeup for a couple of hours was a bitch. Praise to the actors/models who go through that. I was so pissed I couldn't smoke. These are Natasha Beste's photos of the shoot. I cannot lie: everyone loved having my mouth shut for me.

Move and Click

Beloved Adrienne, her hub Joe and my niece Persephone just moved back to New Orleans. At first I was not digging that. Everything they had was wiped out by Katrina. But I know that's HOME for my Dynomoose, so I'm happy she's getting to go where she wants. She better make it up here for Det. Userlands. I'd better make it down there.

Beloved Dave Hebb is doing three video installations for Userlands. The dude rules. He's also 85% sure he'll come to the event. Stellar. Photos of his work will follow soon.

This is just Click. Perciful Aloysius Beauregard Clicky.

Stressed

Stressed. Flu-ish. Dentist Tomorrow. Stills: Brandon Walley from Userlands project.