Can I Pet Your Wolverine? (21st April 2010)

(wrote this on the bus to bombay a few days ago. gotta love the blackberry)

Hello and welcome to the show. My glasses are off and I find all sorts of clarity in the blur. The guitar solo in freebird is on and playing in full volume in my head. Boofuckingya.

What is it that you want? Ok sorry, I don't mean to pressure you. What you want is personal. Purse Anal. Ok.

So the visuals in this country are amazing. Without a doubt. We have hills and shit, goddamnit. I don't know other countries well enough, though. I ought to.

I'd be lying if I didn't say money is posing itself troublesome. Why can't I hang for a bit?

What does it take to get a drink in this place?


Musicians and film makers are doing it right. Bill Hicks was too. Peace and love, y'all. P and L. RnR too. Respect and representation.

Hey-ee-ayyy. There's something very magical about the subconscious. Heck, I don't want to call it the subconscious. Why can't it be undefined? Like God and piousness. Or the length of your penis.

There's a tipping point somewhere in your mind and I feel like I'm tipping all over the place. It either means I'm doing something right or completely and utterly wrong. But then Superfast Jellyfish by the Gorillaz comes on and it re-affirms my belief in transitive meaning. All hail King Neptune and his water breathers. Don't waste time with your net, our net worth is set.
Gotta have it.