I don't care about permissions or any of that shit. This scene is gold. The movie is even golder.
That aside, I have been considering some things. At one point I was thinking, "oh hell, I'm gonna move to Mexico, be a bullfighter (note: I almost wrote bullshitter; don't need to go to Mexico to be that!)," but then I realized that I am such a whitewashed Mexican that it'd make more sense if Patrick did that. I say, "gwakamoley." He uses the accent. I think he does it around me to be a prick. I tell him, "when you do that, it's like... your sister fucking machinations are becoming vividly clear, guero."
But whatever.
Then I thought, "hey, I'll finally sit down and write the great American novel." But I don't have the dedication or attention span for that shit. I'll settle for a cover story in the Observer. Make up some shit about being a bullfighter. Take some photos of me in a sombrero with a bottle of mezcal in my paws, taming a mechanical bull. I'll even sing the Jarabe Tapatío! Humor isn't usually their "stock-in-trade" for cover stories, but I think it'd be awesome.
I considered starting a band. I like to sing and swagger in the shower, so I figured it would translate. Well, I got in line for American Idol and had my dreams subsequently crushed. Not by Simon or or any of those other fucks, but by the people in line with me! They thought I was so awful. They couldn't even hide their contempt. Little kids were covering their ears and crying. So I flipped 'em all off, told 'em to go fuck themselves (especially the kids), and went to a bar where I drank myself stupid.
Currently I'm working on some drawings. I'll put those up soon, see what peeps think.
Re: dumpster readings, I've decided that the final reading will be downtown. They don't know it. Yet. But I will be joined by Patrick and Adam (of the Strange variety). I don't know when, but it will happen.
As the great philosopher Al Green said,
"Let's Stay Together."
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