on return

fuckitall. i've been sick for the past five days, literally spewing my guts from every orifice, appreciating just how disgusting and amazing the human body can be in one fell swoop. i spent one night cradling a bucket while cleaning my own waste off my bathroom floor. then crying while i puked and exclaiming: oh god, how gross! i feel so much better!

again and again and again.

of course, being an artist with a certain liking for the absurd and scatalogical humor, there was one moment as i moaned and knelt on all fours over that bucket that i thought, "jesus. this is so painful and humiliating! this is so fucking hilarious!"

and, shit, it really was. i mean, c'mon! bucket? rolling around on the floor in your skivvies! running from your car to the bathroom sweating so hard because you're afraid you'll shit your pants? things can't get much funnier than shit and puke.

except when you're in it. even then.

i'm finally feeling better now. today is the first day in four that everything that should be solid is firmly solid, and everything that should be liquid lightly flows. a functioning vessel is really such a gift.

so, despite my bought with diarrhea, topics on this blog are stopped up. gonna have to play catch up. so please be patient. i've been having certain epiphanies in my delirious hazes and other revelations that have come to me through conscious conversations: with wonderful partner, with other artists, with my pasts, with my self.

so this is just one of those place holders: you know, like how they always show five seconds of studio 8h during a really long commercial break on snl, and you're all like: what? and then you're like: aw, whatever. this is that five seconds. a little long, tho'. more soon.