my sex drive's back after a more subdued past two weeks where i was too tired and sore to do anything but an every-other-day check up to make sure it's still working.

anyhow, so i'm jerking off to the past and the future, and stretching and dancing and i was ruminating on a lot of things in my thoughts. sort of like paging through the times magazine on a recumbent bike...

and i remembered how the comic, patrice o'neal, died after roasting charlie sheen and i remembered thinking that seth macfarlane had better watch his pudgy little steps because it's like a curse on the tomb of king tut. they got bee stings and fucking DIED.

so anyhow, i was dancing and pondering creativity, sexuality, humor and how i agree with what i said earlier about high sex drives (and humor) correlating with a higher-than-average intelligence. i don't mean ingrown needs that are about other things, because most times sex is actually about something other than sex.

phyllis turned out to be right and that's why i check myself.

anyhow, so i was wondering if i should change my name now that i look so different (or so i'd like to think as i re-create myself!), and i was thinking about where i'd go. when you're an artist, it's like instant family wherever you go so i can go wherever i want in the world and just be "erika" with no last time but good art and you can see it in the eyes.

artists, and their true patrons/family, are like biker people, particularly harley riders. harley riders are like puerto ricans because they figure they're each family somewhere down the line (and they often are). so when you travel you have a place to stay and more generous connections than a frat boy.

quakers and activists used to be the same way when i was a kid, so the world never quite stopped being that way to me.

anyhow, so i was thinking of charlie sheen, and how anyone who publicly slams him goes insane publicly or dies, and that's magic. that's true art and creativity and destruction and rebirth, and yes, tiger blood is real and certain people have it. that's why we want to stare at them and try and emulate them.

but you can't. just stay on the sofa and watch or you'll kill someone if you don't work your way up to playing with bouts of insanity like trips to the cave with a sack full of peyote buttons and paper. you don't need a pen because when you live like this, only your own blood will do to cement the pact.

so yeah, all that's true, but if you watch, he's showing you how to come back to yourselves. be embarrassed, try everything, fuck up, swagger, apologize, then swagger some more. watch. that's your REAL reality shit.

the other stuff is all fake.
just everyone trying to out-source the content so they don't have to pay the wages.
this is the inevitability of capitalism.
it's hilarious and creativity in its own odd ball direction.

but it's not working and ripping down.

and we don't need baby faced movie stars who still have the tan lines from their diapers on, as we enter a new terrifying fucking era. this is worse than the thirties and we need movie stars who took punches in real life and taught us how to transform and TRANSCEND the unfairness, the agony, and come out a fucking hero.

and back in the 30s they did it in concert with the writers and producers who now look like fucking kitty cats next to the fucking zombie dead bean counters with starlets sucking limp fucking dicks controlled by limp minds propped up on those fucking blue or purple pills.

fuck! ONE foray into old age and he used the fucking blue pill i think it was. no fucking way. he ate beans out of a can over the sink and he fucked that way. this is what i get for not even BOTHERING to mind fuck the other canadian biker who came back from the "flaming iguanas" story.

fuck. aim high. don't fuck for the barbecue story. that's so small.

TOO small. there's no time for any of that anymore. fuck so your future comes back and makes it even BETTER on all sides.

man. i'm so lucky. i always get it coming and going. i just get more and more.

so charlie sheen was ahead of you all. he, too, wanted to see where the inevitability of ALL this shit is going. that's why you spark a rage and clear the table. you cross yourself, wink at your closest ally, and let GO. and you see what's left when the dust settles because you don't have the fucking deadening zombie patience to wait the inevitability of a long dragged out sentence.

and so while he is the past, he is also the future, because i'm seeing too many parallels happening EVERYWHERE. it's like we were ALL in a fog these past 30 years. not just me. and we need to see a hero come back in a more honorable, loving way.

why did i just write all of this?

i have NO idea. but i had a visual in my head as i was dancing that made me laugh and laugh like when i get a really, REALLY good idea in my own work. and the image was of charlie sheen smoking on that dateline interview.

it was charlie sheen stabbing the flag of victory up her ass and all our asses, and she fucking loved it. she flipped bad and saucy in a suburban way like shelly long on cheers.

and when i tried to imagine sean penn smoking and having the same effect, i couldn't bring about the same laughter. he tries to hard to reject because like us all, he actually gives a fuck about approval and respect. he's got tons of honor.

but charlie sheen was too naked, gaunt in that moment. he wins. he fucking LIVED his art at high speeds and in front of us all and we saw and are SEEING ourselves.

watch. i don't know where he's going or when he'll get there, but i've got a feeling about this.

and whenever he, or someone well-meaning like him, mouths off, just imagine "MAD DOLPHINS."
be quiet and LOOK at their deeds and what they do. if they are the ones with "tiger blood" and always blow your mind in bed or in life, they also need lots of down time.

mad dolphins, meaning they're actually ahead of you and speaking telepathically and when they say "fuck off" it usually means they're just profoundly broken hearted that you didn't see they were trying to make the world a better place for YOU.

take the 90 seconds of supernatural and add water to the rest of your free time YOURSELF. it challenges you to be what you love so that you may be with it at all times. it will be with you.

that's how you build up and not take down because you're too small to catch UP.

jeffrey had to cover a marilyn monroe calendar with a post it because it hurt a woman's feelings. another complained because his voice got too deep and scary when he was irritated. jeffrey's like 8 feet tall. he can't talk in a squeaky voice to make anyone feel safe.

but i'll tell you that jeffrey will have your fucking BACK and that's safer than the scariness of marilyn monroes archaically sweet an innocent tits winking at us across time.

and that is what charlie sheen is coming up on. what it really is to be an artist, a movie star, a leader, a father, and put stories out into the kind of world he wants to leave for his kids.

he's got a lot of heart.

and there are a lot of bogarts like him out there and you all just have to add water.
that's what this was with james. add water.
they're so beautiful.

don't play it for the safe sense of security. those days are long over.

get sweaty. don't try to take down your heroes. when you do, look at what we're left with.
a zombie world. no sex, no sweat, no complexity, or humanity.

put down the fucking computers screens phones and SEE each other.

dare to fuck up.

and you young ones out there, taste your own juices so you don't wince when you suck an older man's cock first thing in the morning to wake him up and taste yourself. practice.

and dare to break rules. live a little. be wrong. give yourself something to jerk off to in the rocking chair. it's hot. it's right. it's healthy. it's necessary.

rome is burning.
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