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Mike iLL

| | | — | | It’s so funny. Why do I keep forgetting who I am? ‘Smorning I woke up and was Don Juan, then I was Elvis Presley. On the way to the coffee shop I saw Nick Cave refected in a car window. Then I was Eminem and then a computer geek and then this homeless guy lives in a hone-made plywood condo by the train tracks. Later on I was a Duran Duran wanna-be and in turn Yancy Butler, Lester Young, Mary Shelly, Brad Pitt, Hemingway, Rufus Wainwright, and Merlin the Majician! (Or was it Aleister Crowley? (the poet.)) All figments of my imagi-fucking-nation. And then I compete with my friends instead of utilizing their strengths. What a fool. Oh what joy to be such a fool. The rock of reality is hard and cold, but the water of life is sweet. Whiskey is calling me from the depths of panic, but I just let the phone ring. The elusive self. We let mainstream media convince us that creative life is about “rock, rock, rock and the next song is…”. “What are you?” and “What style do you play?” Fuck that noise niggers. I see the game and I tried to play it. Don’t drink and I don’t smoke and I don’t cry and I don’t try. Just a sick soul, came here to die. And with this body, the best I can say about where we’re from sounds like this and looks like that and it’s not music/poetry/painting/dance/comedy/cooking/philosophy/religion. And it’s not for sale, hard as I’ll sell it. Spend every minute tryina give you fuckers what you want. And what you really need is for us unintentional freaks to die poor. Crucified on the cross of the latest democratically elected ethic. And we worshipers of the goddess see the truth of the cast system so worshipped by the druids, hindus, free-masons, catholics, jews, facists and the god-forsaken rest of them. And I thirst for fame and power, but continue to attack the monolith. Spitting cynicism like a startled snake. Disney has it’s version of Ren and Stimpy now. It’s all distorted, nasty cartoons these days. Pooch and Snitch or something. So fucking transparent. Freaky Zen friend Nick in London (who rides around on his bike, jobless, smoking cigarrette’s and pissing straits off with ego-centric mania) says there “ain’t nothin’ to believe in, Mike. Just truth. Start in T end in T. You have relationship you have duality. There’s only one truth.” “One Unity”, as that freaky Lee Perry says. Call it hogwash. See if I care. (You had to look at a fucking Ad. to read this anyway. Well, that part of the site’s fucked up but…) Maybe relationships is the whole point of life. Power of love, baby. Keeps coming back to it. Acid trip after acid trip. How do you love? Start with that sink-load of dishes. Romantic, eh? Hey - thanks for the eyes, friends. Be well, be inspired and be strong. These are tough times all around. Go for the dream. Fear not. Because what do you really have to loose? X O X O X O X O |

Love, mike

20/03/2001