There was blood on the floor
Blood I vomited out
Before passing out
On the floor
In the blood
And thinking it was Tuesday
and my shirt was a sweater
I borrowed
Which was problematic
Because in my deathbed delusion...
I borrowed it from Brock
And Brock needs his sweaters
Like a Rhino needs his rage
And a Lighthousekeeper needs hi beacon
Of light. Bright, ebullient light.
Another brush with death later...
I'm alive
Happy
And Fulfilled!

Exaltation and happiness aren't the most compelling things to read about so I will share this anecdote from today in which a man, a very fat man, rejected every protocol and rule of society and the human condition.

It was a sunny Tuesday afternoon and friends had a free afternoon by warrant of a leaky gas main in the brand new cinema school. We decided to galivanting around and went for a swim at Heidi's place. Nick peed in the hot tub. We were all thoroughoughly disgusted.

Walking to the car we hear a booming voice, "TONY STEWART! TONY STEWART!" No biggie. This is Los Angeles and celebrity sightings are quite common. We pull out of the garage and in the adjacent intersection is a naked man. Roughly fifty pounds overwight with tattoos crisscrossing his backside. He was in the middle of the intersection, stumbling about until a city bus drew his ire.

He walked up to the bus, a DASH, and began punding on the windows with his hambone fists. We couldn't make out what he was yelling but hoo boy was he railing about something. Then he gave the sky the finger. When the helicopters came, buzzing about like urban dragon flies, he continued the gesture to the infinite ire of the LAPD.

The cops came. A man is usually a man, but sometimes he is something else: part animal/part imbecile. Confronted with the spectre of eight guns drawn in his direction, the man reached down to his genitals and masturbated in the direction of the gunmen.

They marched forward, slowly but surely, as the cries of "Fuck the LAPD" built to a crescendo. They shot him in the chest with a taser. He went limp, harmless, and fell to the ground in a gentle pile.

Across the street a Mexican was selling roses.