I’ve started to look at footage for Frenemies and I have to admit I’m excited, especially after having to deal with the State of New York’s Youth Nazi Party Junior Spokesperson and Fake Streetsweeper and then some Novia Scotia crosswinds and temperatures; after two hours of grappling with Final Cut and technology in general I’m going to hire someone; otherwise my computer will end up in several quadrants of the universe; I have little patience of passion for software language mastery; I’m the petulant artist with a passion for romping through the dingy maelstroms of the human condition in disco clothes with great naughty words scribbled on them so I don’t have much patience for how to get a graphic to explode into tiny notes between shots; I have awe and respect for those that do and am now going to pay someone to prove how Awesish I am towards them; it took me three days to come down from the organic high of filming and am ready to swerve back into grappling with all projects; when I go a few days without writing I get a bit cranky on top of my normal Martian mood climate.
I will say that I am excited to finish this little promotional video; Monique, who plays Kate, is very talented and I feel good as we head into the next phase of attracting money like Oprah; otherwise I’ll do what the Federal Reserve does and just print a bunch of fake money, except I’ll have portraits of all the same Presidents except with facial expressions right as they’re climaxing; it will be sexy fake money, unlike the real fake money we currently use; still, I’d love to have a loads of that fake real money in my bank account so Frenemies can be filmed with as much original vision as possible.
There are times where I wish I could clip the intercontinental transdimensional cable wire that runs from my brain to my penis; hotwire my ethics so I can take myself for a spin; something won’t let me sleep around anymore; my penis is much smarter than me now; I don’t know when it happened; maybe it got tired of laying around ignored all the time and got an online degree at the Phoenix School while I was sleeping; but I cannot just ‘get laid’ anymore; my penis, in a lecture circuit to my other organs, has turned them against me and now it only rises when prompted by some inner sanctum uprising of the soul, streaking through the Valley of Aches and shouting madness at all the souls around until its echo is swallowed and returned better than when it left my groin; it can make for lonesome nights but there’s something deeper going on and all I can do it is let it wrestle until there’s nothing left but feathers and organic orgasms.
