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Mike iLL

 
06/12/00
 
Gigs are going great, get a few pounds (money) by the badside. Meant to say bedside, but badside seems more fitting at the moment. Why is it that the more successfull the outside world, the more fucked up I get on the inside? Played a show last night for a couple of hours. People really dug it. Didn’t even have a microphone, but all these disparet folks were really down; Rastas, jazz heads, junkies, geeks. A couple of girls even traveled an hour (or so) by public transit just to be there. But at the same time I smoked a million cigarettes (we roll our own here), and binged on pasta, oil, butter, chockolate, milk and shit right before bed.

This morning the throat’s all swollen and sore, ears full of yellow-brown wax, scalp flakey, raw and dry. Woke from a dream of lost cigarettes. Don’t really wanna die slowly of thoat cancer. And I fuckin’ hurt myself with the mother-fuckers. Maybe it’s that the more success coming from outside, I begin looking there for happiness, and of course this comes in the form of nicotein, caffein, sugar, pussy, cock, buttered bread, compliments and pot.

Don’t come back with presents, I come back broke. Dandruff cakes and tearwater tea. The smoking started up the other night (after three days off - which had began Wednesday morning with a look in the mirror at dry, wrinkled face so it was CO_O_O_O_O_L_D bath and the yoga of will power) at a party at some house Mick Jaggers daughter just moved out of. House music all night long, and lots of good hash and herb, all rolled up with tobacco of course. It was a big coke scene too. Everybody running off in their little groups and pairs. Scampering off to cop… God, so glad I’m not into that shit any more. It only leaves you wanting. Unless you’ve got your own big rock, and some downers… But anyway…

A lot of you people who read this stuff I love. Good folks who I could feel safe in the arms of. That’s what makes this a meaningful life. Think I’m gonna be making money soon, and wanna do cool stuff with it. Supporting good art. Having fun, freeing our children from mental cages. Bless all you teachers. Everybody do something new in bed, break an inhibition, and so will I. Weird Links Dot Com Thanks, Mike iLL |

 
 

12/06/2000