A friend came over and I showed him how to make records out of an old wind up plastic Fisher Price record player and scraps of felt taped together. The key is having a bullhorn loud enough to impermeate the felt with your song, that way you can make a jacket out of your favorite tune. I yellsang the song "Endless Love" to demonstrate the process. Everyone except for me was amazed that I could not only do Lionel's part but that I also ruled Diana Ross like she was my bitch. Take THAT Michael J. I also threw an 8-track tape player so high into the air that it came back covered in cloud goop.
A friend took me down to a big artist collective warehouse made from an old military complex rife with indoor helicopters and bombing lookout towers with 7 inch thick green glass windows . I generally hate that kind of place because most art and artists suck and it's no fun biting ones tongue 24/7. Luckily this place was a little different, there were less people "expressing" themselves and more people just plain inventing shit. All the people there actually had a skill to contribute ie, one was a mechanic, one a welder, machinists etc... the point was to actually do good work and make things that actually function. It wasn't so burning man as I thought it would be, thank goodness. Still, what gives with arty people and their stupid dreadlocks? Fuck your stupid dreads. You look idiotic, not to mention stinky.
I wandered up to the roof and started monkeying around with the old fire truck ladders. I raised on ladder hundreds of feet into the air then lowered it onlt the freeway where a truck smashed into it vaulting it into the air CHiPs style. I turned the other way and pretended nothing happened, I don't think anyone died or anything so whatever right? Besides, if the truck hadn't had so much duct tape hanging off the side it probably would have never gotten tangled up with my ladder/slide deal anyway.
Later on I took a walk along the rocky shore all the way out to the ancient bridge built to access hunters point. Man, they certainly did give the negroes a crappy rock to live on, and the constant beating of the waves along with all the hurricanes make it almost laughably insulting. There were a hand full og black dudes trying to keep the old stone bridge together using a mixture of potting soil and grease clay.
"Um, it'd probably be better if you used some cement or plaster or anything else that would actually HARDEN" I mentioned to one of the dumbfucks hard at work.
"This is the way we have always repaired the bridge" He muttered back.
"And how effective has it been?"
"We be fixin this shit non-stop."
"Ahhh tradition. You go ladies!"
Later I went cliff diving with a bunch of Brazillians who had vaginas that fluttered in the wind. I liked the gentle fluttery sound they made as they jumped, a little like big balloon with all the air coming out of one end. Then I thought about the air coming out and it wasn't as cool.
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