2002-07-11 - 1:22 p.m.
I'm back in the saddle again. With a paddle of course. Horse is on horse. I'm listening to some demos I made. Gonna head back to the studio soon. Yes yes yes. Wammo like-a da studio berry much-a. Can you dig it? I gotta clean up my room. Jeez, you should see it. What a fuckin' mess. So, so so so sew buttons on your underwire. Bulging mulch. I'm collaborating with an old fiend. Mr. John S. Hall of King Missile fame. We're working on an exquisite corpse at the moment and have been talking about doing a duets record. That would be a gas. Or maybe we would pass.
Blah blah blundering wondering the channel the charnel the stones the flood the fire.
Desire.
Stories of glory and Edward Gorey. Oh Gashlycrumb Tinies, wipe your sore hineys. Like Sting waiting for the phone to ring. Or Ozzy coming out of the clozzy. A silver addition to my fruition. Bleep goes the jeep. On the trigger of a…
nipple.
