8-11-00 5:40 PM F

I don’t care who has sex with who as long as the participants in question are all partaking of their own free will. ~~ What did the Buddha do about ants and flies? Let the crawl all over him and his food? He probably just moved. Thirteen pages to go in that R. L. Stevenson pablum. I think I’ll look up pablum. No, it’s definitely not pablum. I don’t know what I was thinking. I want to go to Naples. Where will the office go when we convert this room to a nursery? The dog romps in withered fig leaves. I think you have to wait until figs are dried to eat them. What’ll I read next? A Lardner short? Pulp? Proust? Hammett? Holbein? Big Sur? El Coronel tiene nadie que le escribe? That’s it. I’ll read that to Costa Rica and back. An excellent choice, sir, I must say. I haven’t been drawing much lately. Merlo doesn’t taste so good after you brush your teeth. Whatever happened to my trophies and scrap book? Butt-hole probably tossed them. [Color photograph, Shirelle Butler, Atlantis Paradise Resort and Casino Aquarium, Nassau, Bahamas, August, 1999] Here is a picture of Butthole. I almost didn’t bother with it. The vacuity. The shark coming up behind her. The subsurfaceness lack. The bikini. Yet the expression is guileless. Who can blame her? I thought of trying to draw it. That expression. It would have hurt me to try. I don’t fear the pain; I fear the healing. I dread the energy drain. Rochelle has a friend named Aweek who called. We’re supposed to go to some bar with them. I want to save my money to stalk game fish in Costa Rica. [ blue ink line sketch self-portrait with stepmother and wife]