Why am I always up so late writing these entries? You know, it's because - at least I think it's because that's when you find your greatest self-expression: late at night, when the world (or at least the part of the world that you know, that you feel) is closest to you. I sometimes feel that as an artist it's like your hardwired into the mass-consciousness of the world, of the universe even - that somewhere in your mind there is a registery bank of all the dreams, all the pains, all the proclivities of the mad, insanely intolerable world. And the only way you get even close to making sense of all that ... disorder is to do it at a time when at least those in closest proximity are sleeping.
No, I'm not drunk tonight. Not even fucked up. Strangely, I don't feel sad about this either, or rattled or neurotic like I usually do (usually, as most of you know, I need something to keep me going: a xanax, a drink, a dirty fuck, a pleading drugged pop star at the end of the line to council and console). Tonight, no. Just me and Frankee Sinatra, up in the penthouse, looking over the water and the lights of the city and getting some peace from it all for once (usually Frankie and I are entertaining at full volume up here, keeping the whisky soda's coming on the rocks and the Dom Perignon pouring like a fountain over the city that, just wish all the fucking money combined in the guest list, could buy the damn city).
I feel good, writing like this, connecting into the cosmos. For that's what the internet is, a giant connection of the cosmos. One huge, explorative, geo-political 9/11 detonating the sound of the soul of the cosmos, riding it, linking it all up, trying to make sense of it all. That's why I like the net, and I like this blog - I like it because it re-connects me back to the source from which I write. I like it because it involves us at any level we want to be involved, and doesn't require any love or any patience - just your time. The internet eats your fucking time like a pariah on steroids. But that's nothing new, it's just the nature of humanity - people eat away at your time. If you're willing, they'll consume you. You know, after al these years of making so many fucking millions I can't even count any more, after all these years of being up there, way in front you all on the TV and on picture postcards and on T-Shirts - and think how fucking freaky that must be, contending the mid-day inner-rush of the city one Monday morning in your blacked-out Guccis, recovering from a hangover, only to find yourself sitting opposite your very own reflection in better times as you're ordering your cafe latte. It fucking freaks the shit out of ya ... that you better believe if you want to be a celebrity: it's no small time shit for the soul, celebritydome, it's a psychological train-wreck that keeps going on and on in action replay all the time. And you're always fucked up too, by the way - no on chemicals or anti-chemicals (that's just status quo) but you're fucked up because you have to be fucked up - and I mean fucked up in the head, in the soul here - because if you wern't, you wouldn't be anything special anymore and no one would wanna watch you. Gone is the Ferrari for the comfortable and the benign, gone is the heavenly view of the universe from behind your three thousand dollar reinforced French windows, gone is your personal photographer and press agent, your contract, your only sense of self.
I'm writing this blog at what's so far got to be the height of my career of course, and I guess that makes a difference. the viewpoint all you readers are getting - the arrogance and the charm and the lust and the insatiable want - is all, of course, biased. I'm riding high in life, at least on a darwinian scale (on a Catholic scale I'm down there with the Iranian mob). So I can afford to leave my writing aside, leave my devotees hanging outside bars with crayons and cardboard waiting for my very presence to adorn their personal universes. I like that this blog is small too, for the moment. It gives me more liberation to write freely. But I see it's growing, and although no one's found out about it, it's only a matter of time. But then too it's only a matter of time before I come to my senses and maybe have a kid like ... okay, here I got to tell you something about celebrities. First of all, some of them, the one's that claim to have kids, don't really have them. They play roles. They make-believe. Particularly the actresses. They play the role but they pay someone to have the kid for them, you know ...
... anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the net ... well, the net is like a cornicopea of human voices and souls reaching out for a greater voice, and I like that. I can get off on that. I can write music and movie scrpits about that. That shit makes me want to go on stage in my panties and bear my body for the world, my body as a figure of idealism in a distinctly ideal-less world. Talking of which, I was reading Kennysia earlier today, and there's this piece he's written about circumcision. Kenny's thinking of being circumcised. It's actually a fucking hilarious piece, and worth checking out (for those of you who have come to this site without having come from Kennysia of course). Well, I don't know but personally, I like it either way. I will say this - there are many pluses to uncircumcised men (the biggest ones being that they don't cum so quick and they don't have to fiddle with their cocks for five minutes before and after they go inside you) - but the one great thing about uncircumcised men is that they are gentler and generally more sensitive, which, when you're going on for a long time in the sack, makes for a much better orgasm for Miss. 'x', trust me. But it depends on the girl, is the real answer. Some like it to come back ... others like it uncircumcised. Thats where I just don't believe there's one answer to a "good lover": I've been a shit lover to loads of guys, and a great lover to loads more ... it just depends on a kind of mutual chemistry.
And now, my darlings, we have a mutual chemistry going on which I'm enjoying. I like your comments, they keep me up; I like the way this blog just grows and grows - it keeps me up too. I have a new goal - I'm going to try and get to top 50 in technorati. Help me ... hold my hand, and I'll reward you ...
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