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Mike iLL

| | | — | | He’s twenty minutes late to meet me. we go around to his rehearsal room and he’s like, “hey, could you just wait out here for two minutes while i change and straiten up?” “No problem. I have something to read.” So after five minutes I suddenly get this flash - he’s getting high. Yea. We’ll see. So I knock on the door and he’s, “Oh sorry Mike, I’ll be right there.” Bla bla bla. He’s got the scratchy voice, he’s all running around the room talking a mile a minute, “My father died a few weeks before my sixth birthday, my mother wasn’t there for me…” We had a great jam. Homeboy is real talented. I hope he can kick this dope habit or at least keep it under control.

I’m living in a railroad apartment with my girlfriend Rivka and her sister Honey. It’s fuckin’ great. We each pay like $200.00 a month, and since I’m on the road so much it works out great. For a while we were all sleeping in the same bed; kinda romantic. They’re both gorgeous.

Oh my goddess. I read the illest book the other day. It’s called The She Devils by Pierre Louys. It’s published by Creation Books and it’s this very literate, but super hard-core erotic stuff about a twenty year old guy who gets this family of prostitutes for neighbors and they’re all sharing him and having all this anal sex… to me it was real arousing at first, but soon went went so far that it was beyond the prurient. It really had me thinking about morals and human sexuality and prostitution and like, “at what age is it OK for a young person to be sexually active?” Most of us experiment from a very young age, but I digress. Check out the book. Today I’m beginning Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. Looking forward to it. What attitude. In the fifties. Homeboy was banned here for like 25 years.

This laptop is sitting on an old formica-topped table littered with girlie stuff: Spray bottles, and moisturiser, berettes, brushes, hair clips, lipstic, mascara, tweezers, little weird paint brush thingies. And then there’s my pile of papers: bills, receipts, club contact info, mailing list pages.

Oh yea, check out some quotes from The She Devils:

“Hoars speak with their hearts like other women speak with their cunts.” “Making women come in order to shut them up is a principle known throughout antiquity.” “Whoever invented the confession knew what he was doing.” “The hearts of damned women are made of the same stuff as the souls of saints.”

“It’s a pity that God does not exist, because what he does he does very well.” I want to make an audio version of this book, so when I was in London I called the publisher one night at midnight just to see if the number worked. These people were in the fuckin office man. Ha ha. Gotta love it. Maybe God does exist.

When we open our futon, it comes right up to the front door. Probably very bad feng-shue. So the first thing I see when I get in last night is Rivkas vagina looking up at me from between her thighs. She wouldn’t let me wake her up, so I ate myself to sleep (cashew butter, tortillas and Henry Miller).

Props to Amelia Pedroso, an afro-cuban drummer who recently died of lung cancer. She was fuckin’ wonderful. Earth will miss her.

funky mike |

27/06/2000