2001-05-14 - 12:59 a.m.
I'm watching Richard Pryor, getting geared up for my one man show in Lexington. I downloaded some Rollins the other day for the same reason. Bang bang bang, gotta get jumpin'. It's funny, Richard is talking about being sober. He said "I haven't had a drink or done drugs in seven months." The audience gave him a big round of applause. Of course, most of the audience is fucked up.
Skeeters are out in full force. Man, there is nothing in the world more annoying than a mosquito. I just went to a wedding in Victoria, Tx. The reseption was in a basketball gym at a huge Dupont plant. There's a "protected" wetlands around the plant. There are gators, skunks, bobcats, all kinds of wildlife but nothing can compare to the B52 size skeeters. These are some big, horsefly size, chemical spill, bad ass skeeters. When these suckers land on you, you feel it, before they even get a chance to pierce your skin, you now they're there. While I was swatting one, I thought, "What if it's totally great to be a mosquito? What if mosquitoes have more fun than anybody else? Maybe being a mosquito is the ultimate state of existence on this plane." It's possible. Perhaps all of the hassle of feeding off other creatures is worth the absolute orgasmic delight of being a skeeter. Who knows? We always think that being human is hot shit but we could be really missing out. They could have the best sex. Blood might taste better than you can ever imagine to a skeeter. It still ain't gonna stop me from killing them when they feed off of me but it is something to consider. I don't like to kill living creatures. I won't kill roaches but I will watch with amusement when the cat does. I once had a neighbor who was always calling the cops on me for playing my drums. I went around my house and caught all of the roaches. I put them in a jar and released them on her front porch. Ha ha. Revenge is a meal best served cold. I'm not a very vengeful person but call the cops on my music and you'll inherit my roaches. Not the good kind either.
