There's a dalmation sitting in the corner, looking over half-moon spectacles while its' foreclaws knit a wool sweater. A cat with coccaine melodies defies the eye. The metal in the air is discernable, courting a clump of carbon and nitrogen through the reeds and fissures, mercury along the underground veins and grey napalm upon the scalp. It is rusting and burning, white hand to black glove.

Detroit isn't quite as surreal, but I will sequence some madness and beauty from it. The grotesque is a doorway, not one of those vague yellow parking stumps sprouting from the ground.

This attempt is imminent and eminent: I've got a ticket for two weeks in March. It's been a plan in the making for awhile. Money has been tight, though. Money often is when one hasn't made it for a few years.

This glaring mouth ulcer was crisply bit through and spat out by my wonderful philanthropically inclined friend, Seester, the same person responsible for my wide-angle and telephoto lenses. I tripped over thank you's like Manhattan sidewalks. She laid out the proposition: I can thank her by being myself, since my thought process intrigues her. From most people I get looks of confusion or even a "huh?" with different intonations. She gives me a plane ticket. I think that about balances out.

----

{Soundtrack: 'Hang the DJ' -- The Smiths}

I love Los Angeles, and west LA in particular, but I sometimes miss the eastern section of the US. Wearing shorts and sandals in below freezing blizzards endeared me to Ohio--no, in all seriousness, it did, that and the forest by Oberlin. Where the fuck else would I be hit on by a gay migrant farm worker..who was white, no less. You'd have to be from southern california to understand how odd that is.

Some of you might say Detroit isn't so hott. Me? I don't particularly care about Detroit's reputation, partly because a vacation is vacation and a good friend is a good friend. Dork will guide me along abandoned warehouses, into interesting restaurants and do the tour guide thing. I'm not sure if White Boy Shooting will take out space in downtown, but you never know: my balls could abruptly grow so large, so quickly that common sense is flung clear out my ear.

But I'm not exclusively huffing the company of Dork, though long draughts of that will be had. I also plan on meeting Jim-Hawking and Dark, both resident fiends on this binary berg of newbie-infested fuck-alls. Last but most definetely not least, I may get a chance to see my old friend Adam from Oberlin. Him and I suddenly developed a tight friendship sometime my junior year. There ain't many folks I miss from Oberlin, but he's #1 next to Omega Kate.

Y'still read this vermouth swill, Adam? Well much love to ya in either case.

----

So, the lab/Discordia hasn't blown up yet. We've been escalating, but we aren't that close yet. I may write about that soon; I may not at all. At the moment I'm starving and waiting for Mom and Scott to finish playing The Hobbit and a racing game respectively. Heh, I love that kind of ironic role reversal.

We have plans for sushi, in honor of Scott's mom dying today. I heard the news and felt a mild rising sensation, like energy, then it was gone. I only met her once, so it doesn't mean much to me. Still, I feel for Scott. Still, Scott and Mom have known this has been coming for a long while.

----

I'm wondering: would going to the City of Industry be a good idea tonight? You gotta love the contradiction there: a post-apocalyptic scab of metal and starvation, mixed with club-going elitists. I think having someone like me slipping around the shadows armed with a plastic tripod is almost requisite.

Hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ...I wonder how the Stock Exchange crowd would feel about that being blarred over a car stereo.

Hm.

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