Been a long time

too, terribly long, really. I feel shitty about it, too. I hate not writing. I've barely written in my journal... Makes me feel a that lil' sick kick inside. By not expelling it, it creates that knotty feeling in the thoat. To quote Bart Simpson, it feels like I swallowed a potato chip of shame sideways.

Been in the Moving Mode (I move to my very own, lovely studio in just 3 days. Feeling great about that, despite those moving woes...Stress, etc.) I've also been burning the candle at both ends, as they say.... But, things are tot on the up and up.

James and I saw my most favorite iconoclast, George Carlin, last night...which was just about the most wonderful thing ever... It was the second time for both of us, very necessary that we went this time together. [something of fascinating note: James had spoken to his mother earlier that day and mentioned our plans. She told him that she and his father had seen Mr. Carlin "probably 30 years ago" in MPLS. This was absolutely shocking and revelatory information...since his rents, very Catholic and (at least) somewhat conservative would want to be subjected to Carlin-style heresy! Maybe it's just that Irish Cathoic bond, man. Maybe they were really into the heresy! Loved hearing that piece of family history, though].

George was in great, fighting form, despite post-rehab sobriety and a bad back which made him a lil' crabbier than usual (only at the beginning, it seemed). He had a huge chunk of new material that was golden and he actually uncharacteristically used notes, even reading directly from them at times. I found it refreshing and fun to see a writer look at his written words. Carlin is so known for his intricate pieces he recites so precisely from memory each and every time he spews it. The guy is a fucking genius with language and really takes care to deliver it effectively.

It was just great to *see* him again... in his hunched-over, pursed-faced glory. To simply be in a theatre (the Orpheum) with all those other fans laughing our asses off at *crisp*, concise, brilliant rants about everything from why Catholicism is the only religion that doesn't have The Bomb to wondering why humans can't take a shit in the street, if dogs can...to all those great bits about *WORDS* ((sigh)) I adore him. He has consistently served as my personal philosopher on life, language and society since I got really into him in 1999.

As cynical and harsh as can be, he somehow always makes me feel better about things. Puts it all into perspective. Reminds us to *THINK* and write and examine and question...everything. And, yep, things are all really fucked up and the world might explode tomorrow, but learn that you gotta have a fucking good time, imbibe intoxicants, alright, and be sure to laugh, laugh, laugh.

Remember those seven words? (and the history he made):

• shit
• piss
• fuck
• cunt
• cocksucker
• motherfucker
• tits

ah. words.