June 27th, 2008 | Work
Am awake way too early, barely alive, but my love for you is such that I bring you free comics even in these last moments of my life: FREAKANGELS 0018.
June 27th, 2008 | microlog
June 27th, 2008 | brainjuice
I have to start doing press in about forty minutes. Got about five hours sleep and then just laid there in bed until noon, wondering if I’d turned into the guy from The Diving Bell And The Butterfly, only able to communicate by pressing the channel-change button on the remote. "Look how angrily he seems to mash that button when CNN Headline News comes on. Is he trying to tell us something? Look… I think he’s spelling out a sentence by flicking from MSNBC to that crappy Matthew Perry movie and back again."
Went out to dinner with William and Ariana last night at a remote and relatively ancient steakhouse, which was offering dinners-for-two for $39 to celebrate their 39th year in business. Across the road, next to the Des Plaines Chamber Of Commerce, were stores called THE BAREFOOT HAWAIIAN and REBEL’S TROPHYS (sic). The air’s like soup. I stuck my arm out of the window earlier. First, my flesh took on the consistency and moistness of crushed watermelon. And then it caught fire anyway.
American news is as bad as ever. Top stories — Washington DC residents can buy monstrous rhino-killing handguns again (CNN actually called the overturned ban "unAmerican") and some nutbag in Iowa has built his own personal levee around his floodbound house (and is nonetheless sending his wife and kid out to work across the water while he stays to guard the threshold. And fish). Penetrating reportage: "Where did all the sand for the levee come from?" "Well… I bought it."
I also think I hallucinated a show called CASH CAB, where a cab driver appears to abduct New Yorkers and ask them gameshow questions. If they get the questions right, the ceiling of the cab lights up, the cabbie gives them cash money, and they leave the cab, where local criminals are lying in wait for them because let’s face it it’s not hard to spot the Cash Cab when it’s lit up like a 70’s disco floor inside. If they fail the quiz, the Cash Cabbie dumps them on wasteground in Brooklyn in the middle of the night to get sexually assaulted and skinned. I’m pretty sure I made this show up during some early morning fugue episode. I mean, The Discovery Channel would never fund something like that. Right?
June 26th, 2008 | brainjuice
Once again, I cheat the hopes of many and actually gain access to the United States.
In fact, everything so far has gone disturbingly smoothly. Fastest transit to Heathrow ever, zipped through security, landed at Chicago O’Hare early, and it took ten minutes from getting out of my plane seat to lighting up a cigarette outside the airport.
And now I am installed in a large hotel suite full of Red Bull, cigarettes (Avatar bought me about a hundred packets of my brand), whisky and wine. And a sinister stack of boxes, which I believe are full of things I have to sign. Wi-fi’s on, we’ve set up Mission Control on the main table, the speakers are running, and basically everything is good.
Makes you wonder what’s going to go wrong, doesn’t it?