I don't know why I keep moving back to Provo, it never works out and I always end up back in SF, but there always seems to be someone else convincing me to go back. This time it was an old friend from back then who has recently been living in LA and a totally lovable gay coke dealer friend of mine here in SF that lead the charge.

The Lovable Gay Coke Dealer ended up buying my old house and converted into a really janky mish mash of half constructed rooms built on top of one another all connected with a very questionable spiral staircase. They pitched me by saying they were starting up a new band of all DJs, I'd have to dress up like a Gay Cop which of course sounded like a lot of fun at the time.

I couldn't get my old room back, some other weird artist was there. Instead I was going to live in the old vault in the basement which was being vacated by a lesbian photographer pal also from SF, she is starting a business making automobile mashups and was moving to the mid west. Her flagship design is a mix between an old VW bug and a 57 chevy. It's pretty cool looking if you like that sort of thing, but it reminded me of Melrose avenue circa 1992. I think we have all had enough of that. SORRY LESBIAN PHOTOGRAPHER FRIEND!

I got all geared up to fix the weird staircase and paint in floor numbers so that I would stop walking in on my new roomies during private moments when I realized my life in San Francisco was way fucking better -- like what the fuck was I thinking. I don't wanna be the gay cop in a band of all DJs. SERIOUSLY.

Plus the two friends moved back to LA and SF respectively anyway.

BIG IDEAS!

Point is:
Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol:

That's all for now.
Don't get caught throwing the baby out with the Lovable Gay Cop.
Your Favorite Lovable Gay Cop,
The Not So Lovable Gay Indian.