If I Had a Brain, Would I Let Flaming Lips Touch It?

What a day!I've been trying to keep this "blog" as a writing journal, but today's overall experiences demand I go beyond those boundaries. Today was a hard day at work, bust it late to get things done before deadline, but during lunch, my adventure made work more..., insufferable.

I had to go to Epperson Photo to drop off my first roll of 120 film and a spent roll of 35mm (and I needed a roll salvaged, too). On my way there, I thought I would swing by Wayne Coyne's house, and maybe take a pic for posterity (he and his wife live only about a mile from work). The road I was going to take was getting re-laid with asphalt, so I had to take a longer route. When I turned on the road that runs directly [damn spell check not catching that! 'Irectly' is a word?] in front of the house, I noticed many trucks around, and a slightly differently facade to the house. I must say, it's looking good. So, I drove around the block to check out the back of the house, because I read that he had bought the houses around him as a buffer (http://tiny.cc/nyPRt). Lo and behold, in the back lot, was a tent! It looked like the circus was coming to town!!

Well, everything went well at Epperson's, so it was back to work (but you know, I didn't get a pic of Wayne's house, but I did get some shots of a church with the Holga). Work was boring after that, yet stressful.

After work, I thought it would be a great time to go back to the tent and check it out
—a Coyne production, is a big production! Not surprisingly, Wayne was outside the tent painting a sign on a white bedsheet, using (possibly) Tempera paints in the worst colors that could be chosen by a fifteen year old for their MySpace. But it works here!

There were two signs, and from what I remember there were things about "500 pound brain", and "Ask it anything!" And it was there, inside the tent, resting on a large table; pink, and wrinkled. There was a woman and her son/grandson, both fascinated and confused at the same time, milling about the crushing blob, asking questions about the whole affair. Lights and electronics and smoke added to the mystery. Not to mention a bunny outfit..., or a squirrel with a bob tail, not sure, rounded the whole thing out. There were goodies, and no fee, and as Wayne confessed, loud music to come later. I could go on, but suffice it to say, I didn't get a chance to return when the festivities really took off. Bummer.

The brain was the thing. And it makes my thoughts want to jump ship.

You Can't Put a Price On Condensation

I finally uploaded the list of movies I've seen, which is, to the uninitiated, always incomplete because it's hard to remember those movies I've seen as a child. And sometimes, I just forget to write it down, and it disappears from memory. An addiction to movies is not pretty. Many suffer, and it can be life threatening.

Maintaining websites is another debilitating disease, of which I also suffer.

And then there is writing, which I seemed to have been healed from doing. Aargh!

Do you like trainwrecks? Well, Gary Busey is on Celebrity Rehab. Can't turn away...

It'll Hurt, Till It's Showtime

After a post, and comments on Kevin Alexander's blawg, we have renewed interest in General Cinema bumper videos. Enjoy the goodness!

Yesterday at the local Wal-Mart, there was a little girl having a seizure. Not sure if she was choking, or having a negative response to something—or epileptic. Eventually, she started crying, which was a good sign.

My feet hurt. Bad. Really bad. Mostly just the heals. So painful to stand and walk. I'm going to try to get around today, so I won't get too bored in bed. Today was going to be my shooting day;a roll from my Rollei SLR, put a roll in my Holga and Yashicam TLR. Joy, just out of reach.

Palm Leaves and Skinned Toes Make the Toga

Oh, uh, I think I made my decision about the next president. Not that I'm stoked about either one, but there have been some honorable mistakes (choices) that will be enshrined in the great hall soon. It is so Dukakis--He should not have quit and then get back in the race; that kind of huge mistake.

On a different note, I had conversations today that we're quite fascinating. What if Jesus did come back?

EXT/INT - YOU DECIDE - ANYTIME
WELL, LET'S SAY SUNDAY

The congregation is surprised by the sudden appearance of Jesus (you know him).

CONGREGATION
(shocked)
Gasp!

An evenly astonished Jesus moves his head back-and-forth.

Jesus
(shocked, yo)
What are you people doing?! Wha?
All these churches, and ..., you do
know you're breaking a cardinal rule,
don't you? You know, not worshiping
anyone but God..., my father!?

Jesus begins to pace around the pulpit.

Jesus
All this weird stuff about me, and the gold.
Gold? Why so much? All because of me? This
is why I've been gone for so long.

He stops pacing.

Jesus
It's creepy. The only reason I'm down here
now is because that Tammy chick is
stalking me.

Suddenly, an angel appears behind Jesus in the guise of Tammy Fay Baker.

Tammy
(make like Fran Drescher)
Oh, Jesus, there you are! Come here
with those locks and let me stroke them!

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That's enough of that.