Venus, If You Will, Please Send a Furry Man For Me to Thrill

Wednesday, November 16th, 2005 | Art

Steve told me that I’ve gotten away with playing the twinkie card for long enough already. I had a dream that I was being unsuccessfully seduced by a group of buxom chick dancers with milky chocolate skin, gyrating in that perplexing way that’s supposedly stimulating to heterosexual males, hovering over the ocean, like mulatto pole-dancing Venuses. I treaded water below, terrified of the sharks swimming nearby, who eventually rubbed against my leg and I woke up in a total sweaty panic. What an awful idea to have watched Teoremaearlier to ring in the new decade. I’m intellectually stimulated and want to die. If you’ve seen the movie, that’s me at the end, running naked in the desert, screaming, my arms flailing. I should be having sex. While I still can. Or sleeping. I can’t help but think of Bob’s aunt’s dying words, “But I took my vitamins.” At least she got to astral-travel.

It’s 5:15. Let’s check e-mail.

I’m trying to remain calm. I just got asked by a Japanese magazine to shoot some Bay Area muscle dudes. Like, NAKED! And they’re going to pay ME! I hope I read all the zeros correctly. Yes, the zeros are yen, but still, I’m not used to discussing naked men and someone else’s money. Enough abjection. The universe is dropping musclebears into my lap.

A big day ahead, so I’m going to get back to my Bada-Bing mermaids. Nighty night, and thanks for the many kind thoughts on this, the dawning of my twilight years. Or Zone. Whatever.

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