PAUL Mccarthy

Jesus. McCarthy runs with that insane space some of us get when we haven't slept a lot and are sorta bipolar. that space where you do wacky scat (vocal randomness) and burden people with your nonsense. I don't like to indulge this because it makes me closer to the edge of "uncontrol".

I think he is an enemy.

DETRITUS

(I) Require an intern to decipher and transpose (is that the right word?) to digital tomes the nickel notebook mess that is my scrawl life. While this person is figuring out my hand writing I'll be bench pressing or eating fruit salad. The intern can feel free to come down and ask me stuff like: "What is this f-ing letter? This jumbly Gehry ink tumble?"

IMAGINARY WEDDING TOAST

(To two 22 year old dumbasses)

"We're gathered here today to celebrate God, magic force, whatever, bad teen lust spilt, reaping this union of two disparate kids who now think they are heaven-matched ( especially now, with wine in them and the warm confirming pressures of an event). So comfortable are they in their fate that they have presumed to give me advice ('When are you going to grow up, find somebody?'). When am I going to find my prison, you mean?

I bless you for your floundering self-serious mistake. You're happy because you're weak."

At this point the guy giving the toast is pelted with 3rd-rate risotto by one of the Salvadoran caterers manning the starch station. A table of 16 year-olds applauds this. All the adult guests are still too floored by the toast to react.

The risotto man thought it was the right thing to do. He'll subsequently lose his job, however, as the toaster nurses 3rd degree burns (from 3rd rate risotto). Risotto man argues in his simple way that he was acting to rescue the sanctity of the event, and should be given credit for his intent. He has the gumption to contact the bride's family for backup ("I was trying to unspoil your little girl's big day!"), but they are a family of jerks and don't make the required phone calls.

THE POOR UIGHUR GUYS

If I was one of the umpteen filthy billionaires in this world I would pay (pay off whoever it took) for these guys to come to my "refugee compound": a Disneyland-by-Dieter-Roth/ParqueGuell type place where they could work on sculpting the grounds and executing my campus plans. Watts Tower type stuff. They would be free to pursue their own designs if they felt like it, bring their visual spirit to the place.

They would be of use in building this place, and it wouldn't significantly dent my wallet because I'm a damn billionaire.

Why don't the big $ people do this type of stuff? It's holy, essential stuff, while still serving their vanity (the building of a theme park to their taste, the building of a reputation as a revolutionary philanthropist).