I smoked a bunch of weed tonight while listening, over and over and over, to side 2 of Led Zeppelin III. I usually don’t smoke so much, but fuck it — I just euthanized my cat. Anyway, I’m pretty sure it’s the best 1/2 slab of music ever laid to vinyl. Pure genius. Side 2: “Gallows Pole”, “Tangerine”, “That’s The Way”, “Bron-Y-Aur Stomp”, and “Hats Off To (Roy) Harper”. So I kinda danced around my front room, high, in my sweatshirt and underpants, popping peanut M & M’s into my mouth (cause my sister continued her XMAS gift tradition and gave me two pounds of them) in a kind-of homage to Kitty Licious.
I dunno. Maybe “homage” isn’t really the right word to use here, and “kind-of” is certainly silly, too…but God, I love the song “Tangerine”.
Jayma Reed called me tonight! We really haven’t spoken in months, and it was good to hear from her. She has no plans to ever be in a dirty movie again, and I think that’s a really good thing. We talked for like an hour and a half, and when we hung up, we told each other “sorry” and promised to keep in touch.
I don’t know why I like “Tangerine” so much. I can’t even explain any of it, really. And “That’s the Way”? I guess nothing about Led Zep III is obvious, and that’s why I like it so much better than I and II.
Just last night Kitty Licious was stuck to the sofa. It was kinda weird; she was clinging to the side of it, half-on and half-off, just sitting there, sideways. And looking at me. I looked at her. She’s wasn’t moving, so I helped her up, and carried her to where I was laying, watching The Devil in Daniel Johnston, and she laid with me all night. By the end of the movie I was pretty convinced of Daniel Johnston’s genius, and Kitty was still curled up next to me, so, as quietly as I could, I got up and went to bed, and she didn’t move, and I didn’t think anything of it, and this morning, she was still there, in the exact same spot, so I knew something was up. Out of the blue, her hind legs just stopped working — even for The Wet Food.
How about that moment or three of pure silence in between “That’s the Way” and “Bron-Y-Aur Stomp”?
I have a new myspace friend. She’s one of my only non-porno friends, and I wrote and told her about Kitty Licious. I told Barbie Cummings, too. Barbie met Kitty Licious, and so did Barbie’s dog, Fifi. I called Cherry Poppens and told her, too. I called my little brother. And my mom.
My next door neighbor sold me on the idea of getting a cat when I was banging out Anxiety Attack after Anxiety Attack; she felt a cat might help calm my nerves…and she was right. So we went to the SPCA where I was living at that time (Dallas, TX…the only city in America where you could whack a President and get away with it) and we went through all the kitties on death row and I chose Kitty Licious. Her name then was “Mindy”, which I immediately changed to Kitty Licious — although there were times I called her Kitty Rock. Or just plain Kitty.
I dug through my records and found the only two Zeppelin records I own — III and Houses of the Holy — and chose the former cause of Side 2. I thought about Kitty while the temp picked up in “Gallows Pole”. Then I smoked and danced and ate peanut M & M’s and I thought about Kitty and I thought about how ridiculous I looked, if, say, anyone was watching me, but hey, that’s OK, cause that’s one of the great things about being alone at any given moment in time.
The psychedelic folksong “Hats Off To (Roy) Harper” is as oddly weird as it is compelling.
Tomorrow I have lots to do: pick up a ManoJob scene from a friend who did me a favor and shot it; take my dog for a long walk; I should go get my HIV test, cause even though I’m not male talent, I always like to know I’m clean as a whistle; I need to edit a scene for No Way Am I Gay; and I have to find and hire a Dick Sucker, and it’s hard, cause I’m home, and there’s not as many Dick Suckers in Arizona as there seems to be in Los Angeles, where I work, and even though I’m not in LA working the site still needs an update, so it turns out I’m working on my holiday.
That is, if you consider filming a girl sucking a dick “work” — I know I sure do.
I can hear the record popping against the label, which means it’s done, so I think it’s time I called it a night, too, and went to bed. Without Kitty Licious…which will be the first time since October, 1993.
I’m going to miss my old friend.