Staying with a friend’s family in NC, we’re luxuriating in a comfortable, beautiful home nestled just in the woods on a quiet street. Mom here is a Buddhist and we are put up in the meditation room. We’re fed delicious homemade minestrone soup from the family recipe. Afterward, as I’m enjoying my first hot shower in days, I think about this trip. We’re not making a lot of money, but it’s enough to eat well and have a few bucks in our pockets each day. We’re meeting good people, with good friends, eating delicious food, seeing a new city every day, performing and making people happy. It’s like Apocalypse Now in reverse; we’re moving south, where it’s warmer, toward a world that makes more sense, toward a life that we want.
Marty Allen: Marisa read us all a bedtime story about a mouse that becomes a cat and then, with an utter lack of moral compunction, eats a mouse. This strange modern parable filled us with confusing feelings, and we slept heartily in a big smelly pile, hoping that we wouldn't wake up and realize that we had been transformed into amoral vampires.
From the sockpuppet journal of Mister Alien Eyes: I have been drinking. Now, I haven't had too much to drink. If I had, someone would have most certainly let me know. Most certainly. Nonetheless, as I said, I have been drinking. Now, I feel . . . sociable. Lubricated. Ready to talk it up and spill my guts. You know? You do know, don't you? . . .You get it . . . you know . . . like . . . in the Ireland cold . . . you . . . and Bono . . . you guys! You're the guysssss . . . you’re the onessss! Ah, this song is sweet! Listen, Shhhhhh . . . listen. It’s like, sometimes, I have just enough drinks. And then all of my eyes, it’s as if they become one, and I see it all so clearly . . . I feel it . . . In the Ireland cold.
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