porn, super porn
where I lived, and what I lived for
2004-04-19 | 12:30 p.m.

An enormous, langorous writer's block has perched itself upon me, and then there's like, women's issues and stuff to deal with. I soar on the edges of ecstasy, running down the street and hugging all my neighbors and buying sam thirty kinds of vegan desserts, and then on other days I'm like a kid that just found out that Schopenhauer is his guardian angel, I drink bottles of robitussin, I drive my dear family away with my centrifugal capriciousness. But while at this moment 'mood-stability' is a rarity and women wearing purple dresses and enormously frightening feathered hats are everywhere around me at the book-store, I am determined to prevail and fight these mood swings. With drugs. There is definitely a drug problem in this country. Drugs are too hard to find, and I love them too much. Drugs, drugs, drugs, I think children should gobble them like candy, I think everyone should be stuffed full of 'em. I would have a curiously cute little drug-dish on my coffee table if I could and offer sweethearts and strangers alike little nougat-filled x pills, or mint-flavored LSD tabs. Everyone has to have a dream, I guess. Anyway, I went camping this weekend, and tomorrow is the Squarepusher show, and it's another deliciously deciduous day here in the hill country.

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