Chickety chick chick the Chinese chicken

I LOVE CHIKINS!!!!!!!!!!!!

CHIKINS R BIRDS THT HAV FETHRS!!!!!111!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TH3Y ARE MAKING EGGSX BY LAYING!!!!!!!!!11111111111111

BUT TH3Y DO NO GIVE MILKS, BECUZ TH3Y R NOT MANIMALZ!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

CHIKINS CIKINS CHIKNS WOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooOOOOOOOO!!!!11111111

WOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!111111!!!!

Update: WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!11!!!!!!!

What’s playing at the Roxy? I’ll tell ya what’s playing at the Roxy

I purchased a Chemex coffee maker about a week ago. It’s basically a large glass bauble. You put coffee and a filter in it, pour boiling water in, and watch your coffee drip through the specially constructed paper filter. It’s a meditative, mellow experience, at seven-thirty in the a.m., just watching your coffee drip drip drip through the Chemex, standing in your brown fuzzy slippers and dingy blue bathrobe, watching your coffee and watching the gray California morning sky, drip drip meditate drip.

As much church as I’m going to get, for the time being.

The weekend was lovely — we did a one-nighter to SF to visit a few folks and attend a birthday party. Alex is thin and brown, ready to do some modelling. Katie is as intense as ever. Sean is moody as ever, and still funny as hell.

Ambassador’s Day is playing San Francisco on August 12, 13 and 15, at the Roxy Film Center.

Where any office boy or young mechanic can be a panic

Hell of a weekend. So Friday night I played guitar in The Burlesque of Bond, same as usual. (The show?s extending through next weekend.) Next morning, I hopped a plane with my wife from Orange County, grabbed a plate of amazing pasta at Zza’s in Oakland, and went to Rhythmix for the closing night of The Death of Ayn Rand. The show was awesome; I received and gave a lot of love; Rob and Linda and Angela were awesome folks to hang out with. I was gratified to discover that since I am apparently dead, my writing’s now worth a lot more than when I was alive. We stayed up till the wee hours, drinking and talking, and bright and early Sunday I hopped a plane back to Santa Ana. I drove to Los Angeles at ninety miles per hour, arrived just in time to catch the Dances with Films festival. Ambassador’s Day was playing at the shiny Laemmle 5, on Sunset in Hollywood. I just made it in time to catch myself, with Dave and Charles sitting beside me in the theater. Now I know that names are just names, and places are just places, but there was a never-to-be-forgotten thrill in leading in a Hollywood film. Yes, that’s me up there, making you laugh! After the film, I took the guys back to Costa Mesa, got them all nice and drunk, and we all watched the current cut of Absolute Pleasure. I collapsed in bed, failing from sensory overload, as the calendar turned from Sunday to Monday. Yeah, hell of a weekend.