I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Saturday, August 02, 2003
What I Did On My Summer Vacation...
Last night involved, yet again, more stripper madness. My girlfriend earned a dollar dancing for me at the club. Some very mean-looking girl with breasts bigger than my total body weight put a dollar in her pants. I was a pimp for one whole second. Some pimp. Anyway, this morning I was about to go to the bathroom when Hard arrived at the door...
I'll let him tell you...
Hi kiddies! Its' your old pal, The Hard Artist! Kev and I auditioned for a play today! Then we went antiquing... it was delightful! Actually, we did audition today. But Kev might not get to do the show because he has to go see those whiny bitches, Radiohead, on one of the performance nights. Then we went back to his pad to watch some horrible movies. Boy, this is starting to sound like one of those blogs that I hate: "Sorry I haven't updated in six months but school has been really tough!" Kev has Metallica playing right now. It makes it hard for me to string any coherent thoughts together. Here, take over homie...
This is like blog freestylin'!...
Yeah, I auditioned for a play. I was talking to a guy outside of the theatre. I asked him if he'd done any shows there. He said that he had, but not in a coupla years. I told him that I haven't done any theatre in...ten. Am I just old, or not a card-carrying member of the drama fag society? Maybe both. The other day when I was re-applying for school, the guy at the admissions window said, " So, you graduated this year? ". I was puzzled. I told him no. He showed me my admission form. Yup, it said year of high school graduation, 2003. I had to tell him that it was a mistake. He asked me when did I really graduate then? I looked around and whispered...1993. He was kind enough not to arch his eyebrows. I started to snicker, cuz' I'm getting fucking old. Hee Hee.
Hey, Hard! What movies did we watch over here after our auditions?
Hard here! Well, Kev... It shames me to admit this, but we had the pleasure of watching Final Destination 2 (don't worry if you didn't catch the first one, all your crap needs can be met with this purile sequel), something called The Wash (a movie where, seemingly, the director just turned his camera on and walked away - leaving Dr. Dre and Snoop Dog to get up to all manner of pointless jackassery), and Evil God (a short film by the one and only Kevynn, which wasn't too shabby once he explained what the fuck it was about). Hey y’all here's a little quiz for ya; who wrote the following?:
O Pointy Birds,
Pointy Pointy.
Anoint My Head,
Anointy nointy.
No fair you answering, Kev.
My god, what the hell was that? I refuse to speculate. I want one of you to tell me what the frag he's gussying on about. I'm very proud of myself for actually waking my hung over body up to go stand in a theatre with a bunch of balding, white men. Maybe I won't get a call back. Maybe I will. Actually, there were a couple of black kids at the auditions too, but they kind of freaked me out. The one without the afro kept on talking to me excitedly, and was later told by the director to stop dancing while he was on stage. The afro-less black kid had a lot of pent up energy in him. I blame it on Motown. Oops. I didn't say that. Anyway, the guy with the afro was weird too. Fuck, everybody was weird. White, black, plaid. One guy that I auditioned with smacked the fuck out of my chest when he was all caught up in the moment. It was so loud that Hard said that everybody outside asked what the hell was happening inside. So. Uhmm. I would like a part. A big part. I would like to part the Red Sea.
H.A: Do you all see what's happening here? Kevynn threw in a little cleverness at the end of that paragraph in order to draw you away from his earlier racist comments. Let me be the first to break the news in this Hard Artist Exclusive: Kevynn is the Grand Wizard of the KKK. I know, it's shocking. But true. I swear... [choking noise as Hard is throttled by Kev] He's never gonna let my write on his site again.
Dude, I don't care what anybody says - I'm allowed to get away with whatever I want. My mother was born in a Vietnamese jungle and she fed me bugs and dogs as a child. What that has do what I said earlier? I have no idea. But I'm excused, thank you. And I was serious about wanting to part the Red Sea, but that fucking Moses got to it first, the bitch.
Lick us. Goodbye.
Hard and Malone, out...
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