INVERSE VANDALISM

Well, my lovely children, I have returned from the land of the damned unscathed yet again.
The past two weeks were a relentlessly churning vortex of chaos that sent many to the brink of madness. I crossed over more than a couple of times myself and found myself standing in front of trains, making nests on tabletops, and eating more drugs than Hunter S. Thompson.
Fat Tuesday morning, I awoke at 8 AM to watch the Zulu parade. A friend of mine threw a hit of acid in my mouth and we bounced down the street like happy little hippies. After handfuls of mushrooms and dancing on the tops of bars all day, I needed to wind down. I was walking through Uptown with baby eyes like saucers when the most beautiful poem in the universe drifted down and fell into my head. Too bad I can't remember it.

All in all, I'd have to say it was a great Mardi Gras. I only wish that you could have been here to share it with me. Due to an irreparable internet connection, I may not have all of the photos up tonight. For now, check out how we locals kick off Mardi Gras. That's right! Crawfish and Nitrous Oxide!
Look at them in order. They tell a fascinating story. Heh.



I'm a bit under the weather today and am struggling to swallow. For a minute there, I thought I had lead poisoning due to sanding 100 year old shutters and breathing in the foul old paint. I felt like biting the bullet last night, but after a mustard bath Monique gave me, I felt better.

I expected the mustard bath to work instantaneously, causing me to sweat profusely thus "getting the lead out" but I was horribly mistaken. Only later did I realize the magnificent power of Mustard.

Relaxed and eager to sleep, I slid into my billowy bed and began kicking my legs around to create the friction needed for adequate warmth. As I was drifting off, a tiny bead of sweat formed on my forehead.

An hour later I was caught in a torrential downpour! Every pore in my body burst open like the 17th St. canal in a storm surge. I looked up to see that ceiling was still intact and it was. I haven't peed the bed in months!*
What could it be!? I tried in vain to writhe free of the soaking sheets but to no avail. I was too weak to fight, so I accepted defeat. Nestling myself in the sweaty depths, I pretended I was napping in a pool. Later on, as I tossed and turned in my uneasy sleep, I freed myself somehow. I stumbled to the bathroom, took a shower, and afterwards changed the sheets.
The battle with Colonel Mustard was over**. And that's when the dream started.

I don't exactly know when it started, but I do know that every change within the dream was directly triggered by my movements. My throat really hurt, so I focused on taking as many breaths as I could before swallowing, which set the pace for a wildlucidrollercoasterdreamfest.
In front of me was a grid, not like a square grid, but more like the eye of a dragonfly. In this grid there were people. Lots. When I focused on a certain one, the "cell" that contained them expanded into the forefront of my minds eye allowing me a closer look. Everyone looked liked average folks, except none spoke. They just stood there staring at me. There was a cheerleader, a business man, a construction worker.....

Every pained breath brought someone new and I struggled to find a place in my brain for them. I was pretty sure I'd never met any of them so far on my journey through this life. Yet, why these people? How are they connected and why are they in my head?

And then a black man appeared before me. I knew I recognized him, and that's when I got my first clue. A name.
Dinerral Shavers. My body stopped twitching as I fixed my soul on him.
I use to watch him play the drums for the Hot Eight Brass Band.

Unfortunately, Dinerral Shavers was shot and killed just before Christmas last year.
He's dead.
And that's when I realized that they ALL were....yep.
I have a head full of dead people I never knew.
I can understand the brain bringing someone that you knew "back to life" but what about the hundreds I didn't know? Were they seeking me out in hopes that I might rectify a standing matter here in the plane of the living? Or did I come really close to death? I only get sick about once a year, and it's usually bad. More on this as I continue to have fever dreams.

Anyways, after stumbling to the kitchen for some agua, I laid back down on my moist new sheets, drifted off, and let George Shultz himself walk me through a Peanuts episode.

Be back soon. As my body continues detoxifying, I'm sure I'll have more to say. God Speed.

* - Not true. I mean it's been YEARS...
** - Actually, it happened again last night...w/o the Mustard....which means that it's actually a wicked fever. I'm outta sheets now. Gotta do laundry. Aargh.