Await the return of the Spaceman
Sick of Waiting
So it’s the early part of July. We just threw a big party last Sunday, stateside. The girls that live down the hall from me at the Coburn building were all doing their own thing in the street. Dismissive as usual one of them opened a 40oz for me and drank the head of it. I lumbered back into my sweltering two busted fan apartment and continued about work. Im planning to have my first public showing downtown this summer- a large series of illustrations. With that mirth like thought on the brain pan, I am happy to announce that we are planning on printing a new book. Im hurriedly trying to get that in order and ready, I plan on having a few copies out at the reception. This dream of mine is becoming my adult Christmas, Im starting to think this showing art in galleries is a good thing.
Oh and that’s not all Ive been up too, Ive had much on my plate. More to report about that when I got it in my king-fu grip of passion. Something has managed to slip out of that grip recently. The Komet! I see his form streaking in strange dessert patterns across my dream scape skies. As he glances closer he smirks and grins like a madman. I feel like he knows I could reach him if I knew how to follow him, HIM like some kind of Peter Pan of the galactic infinite. My soul wafts like the grand old flag, a golden eagle clutching its tiny milky way block, the eagle rends its giant precious wings in screaming sounds of glory every time I think of The Komet crashing to earth. How many times has he crashed here? In my dreams TheKomet bends time like a straw, jamming his slender fingers into its openings and flexing the neck, preparing to slurp heavenly from the creative goop of life! Oh but the summer is burning on, and the good magneto sphere is still capriciously deflecting Sol’s deadly radiation. And the good earth waters are refreshing and cooling our crust and core. We still have the night sky. We have this immortal coil, we have our lives.
Listening to: Oasis, Wonderwall. Mission: Recycle something into art. Reading: Warhol the biography Eating: El Chapala’s Admiring: David Flores “don’t give up, we got the dreamers disease.”New Radicals
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