Bob and Me

I am at work. Everyone is leaving. I don't really want to post anything. Not because I don't have anything to yap about, but because I really love looking at the last post--all those paintings and the pink border.

I will let it go like a good Buddhist though. Not that I'm a Buddhist, but I guess that's what they do. Let go and all.

Lets see...

I read the Bukowski book. Very good. He has a sour perspective, but underneath is this incredible light. It reminded me of Haulden Caulfield. Same thing. Pathetic, pathetic, I hate the world, and then I love my sister, or I love the world. Oh, wait, maybe, that's me.


Tonight I play tennis with paiman. I told him I would kick his ass. He said he would kick mine. I'll film the winning point; just to be clear about reality.

What else?

Slipshod Swingers is meeting on Sunday at 5 pm. An all star cast. We'll have Frankie-boy back from his tour in NYC; Michaelangelo back from Philly; and a whole slew of other Swingers, including Sheepman. Oh, yes. It will be might fine.

I am glad to be doing this record for Valentine's Day.

This is the first time I will be writing the soundtrack for a book, before I write the book, but that's the way it came out, so that's the way it goes.

And that's the way I talk, so here is a big old rose.

Talk to it. Sroke it. Tell it what you want.

I don't want nothing, rose. I just want to look at you. Is that--

Look all you want, big boy.


You want to go out later?

Yeah, you can call me your girl from Orange County.

Oh, shit, right. Orange County!

Yeah, that's where it's at, you know?

I hear that.

Well, sing it to me, Daddy.



Okay, I don't really have a date. We'll see where this goes tonight, when I'm alone in the Fortress of Solitude.

I can't wait to sleep.

Tennis, first. Then sleep.

Who are you?

Bob. Your mind.

I love you, Bob, but I don't want to have other people talking in my head right now. I want to eat a pepperoni pizza.

I thought you were a vegan. How can you eat animals?

Like this.

You're gross.

No, I'm human. That's what we do. We eat things.

What about kiss?

I'll kiss you, Bob. But then I have to go.

Do you know it's Friday, the 13th?

I'll kiss you anyway.

Goodnight, brain.

Goodnight, Pirooz.

I said goodnight.

So did I.

Oh, I see. This is like that play with the bums.

Yeah. Why don't you make a balloon carry us away, or a tidal wave.

I've got a surfboard.


Okay. Hop on.

I'm right here.

This is cool.

Don't we need a picture of us surfing away?

Nah, let them imagine it.


You look good on a surfboard, Pirooz.

I thought I was Bob.

Oh, yeah. You look good on a surfboard, Bob.

You too, Pirooz.

Let's surf forever.

Like Rick Moranis in Club Paradise.

That's the ticket.



Well, I love everyone who was anyone, who was anyone again.

Until tomorrow, P.

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