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A Short Visit To Gar Bay
2006-04-10 at 1:53 a.m.

Oh, it's a beautiful place, Gar Bay. Located just about 75 kilometers from that great oyster bar "S'not On A Half-Shell"...you know, that new place with the fresh seafood in Cape Coral. The commonwealth of Massachusetts owns my heart and soul, Satan. You'll never be able to gain control. Unless you come to me in disguise. Like if you seduce me looking like Natalie Portman carrying a tureen of clam chowdah from the Lobster Pot in Provincetown. I'm inside of her and she's moving very slowly, sitting on top of me feeding me bites of chowder, alternated with their amazing garlic salad. THEN, if you said "do I have your heart and soul?", I'd probably be fooled into gurgling "y-y-yes", and losing it for all eternity to the Dark Lord.

Those of you familiar with Cape Cod, Massachusetts will know that the above locations, including Cape Coral, Gar Bay, and especially "S'not On A Half Shell" were the inventions of a very hungry guy who hasn't had sex in a few months. The other things, including Provincetown, The Lobster Pot, their award-winning clam chowder, and the talented actress Natalie Portman, are all real people, places and things.

So I'm squatting naked over a mirror trying to figure out where I put my keys, and I get an email from The One Who Plops. Inside, I find a picture. It is the picture above, yes. Whilst in college in the 1780s I was lured into making a horror/comedy film. Apparently it has finally come out on DVD.

Now, the other film I was in, Chillers, has been on DVD for a couple of years as part of a collection of Troma films. You can buy it, with 2 other films attached, for about $10. The cool thing about the one we're talking about here "Invasion of the Space Preachers", is that it comes as part of a two-pack of films, and the other film contains no other than Corey Fucking Feldman! So it's possible that Corey has a copy of this fine 2-DVD set, and has watched me acting my heart out. That's a funny thought. Then again, if he's anything like me (and besides being a douchebag junkie with a Michael Jackson obsession, I don't think he is) he'll never stick that DVD in his DVD player in a billion years.

In the black & white picture above, I am flanked by two girls who were, in the film, my back-up singers for my rockabilly band. My hair is in a french twist, trying to simulate some kind of duckbutt Elvis Presley/Gene Vincent rockabilly coolguy hairdo. French twist? That's not what it's called. What's that damned girl hairstyle with the weird ponytail tied to the back of your skull?

In the film, I had to lipsynch a song that I learned the night before. With their edits, it looks pretty good. On the day of the shoot, I felt like I was miming the words to "It's the End of The World As We Know It (and I Feel Fine)" over the music to "The Star-Spangled Banner". What? It just felt clumsy, in other words. Anyway, I've never seen the picture above, and it was a cool surprise. I'll have to check out that website. That professor was the guy who directed the film, and he's one of the funniest, coolest folks I could've ever had the privelege to have as a teacher.

Here's a great story. I go to work at 4 p.m., and am supposed to work until 8 o'clock. I get there and no one is in the DJ booth. The station is set on automatic. I looked around for the guy I relieved, and finally realized...I was supposed to work at fucking 2 o'clock!!!!!

If they hadn't bought out the station, raped it, taken most of the music away and turned it into talk radio, someone might have cared and I might have been in trouble. As it goes now, no one gave a hairy shit. So I worked for 2 hours. What a maroon.

My birthday is on the 12th. It's going to be a piece of shit. It will be one of those times that amplifies the fact that I'm no longer with the person I love, but I'm going to do my best to be as foggy as possible so I don't fixate.

I need a haircut so badly it's embarrassing. For the last couple of years, if my hair got too long I ended up looking like Professor Snape. Now, it's way longer, and way curlier, and I merely look like a dick. A hippie's dick, actually. I'm going to eat some Cracker Jack, listen to the new Flaming Lips CD, and fart into a tubesock. What? No, I'm going to throw a tubesock that's been balled-up and throw it around with my dog Spider. And then I'm going to go hiking in the dark and try to figure out where/how bears shit. I mean, is it in the woods, and if so, where exactly?

Remember me talking about the red fox a while back? It ran by making a superloud sound like a screaming baby on fire as I was standing on the front stoop, taking my dog out for a piss. Well, about a week later there were signs inside all of the buildings in my condo. Lots of blah blah xeroxes hung up on bulletin boards with info about the dangerous Red Fox! The first picture in a series of illustrated informative foxinfo was a hysterically funny drawing of a fox leaping vertically about 2 feet off the ground. It looked like he decided to violently hover, or propel himself off the ground in anger. Like if your dog or cat just pushed with all of his power, with all 4 legs. I, for some reason, keep finding myself imitating this movement when I'm by myself with my dog. I'll say "watch out for foxes", and leap vertically with all of my might. Ooh, that fart stunk.