So, Ungentle and weird readers, I am safely in Halifax, thanks to Dracula, kinky sex, and the parking enforcement bone heads with hyperbolic space age walkie fuckin’ talkies and doomed lithium ion detectors, designed to fuck you over when you are 5 minutes late from your dungeon master seminar. The cops put me in those inhuman self tightening fuckin’ cuffs that cut into your god damned hands while you attempt to not piss your pants. At first, the bastards are playing good cop/badcop, then, they pull the old switcheroo and played bad cop/bad cop. “Fuck my life.”
I am in a torrential monsoon, trying desperately to re-attatch the doomed and dangling skirting to the Uhaul with the giant add for “Quebec City” on the side…the cops arrive, while “The Schizo Kid” is elegantly repairing the fuckin’ cosemetic damage to the side. Oh, no fuck my life again. They arrest me, under suspicsion of being “Intoxicated”, and I plead with them in the middle of this “Biblical Fuckin’ Deluge”, that I do not drink. They, being bone heads, take my keys, and I kindly explain that there is defrosting bone-in chicken and my smokes, and my whole “ENTIRE LIFE” in the Uhaul. To no avail.
Then straight to “Abbey Lane 6”, where I watch a racist, out of control “Gimp” of a retired RCMP Moron curse the Nigerian shrink, and hurl insults at nurses, and of course play annoying bagpipe music, while dangling a cheap ass crucifix from the door knob and calling me quote, “THE DEVIL.” Yeah, I am the devil, but you are a deranged socipathic slime ball with a polished badge and the mentality of a doomed baboon from space.
Enough about “Baboon-Cops”, I am enrolled at a life drawing class at “Plan B”, the space also moonlights as a punk/metal venue, and a very strange taxidermist collective, and art depot. I mean a bike with no tires should not cost more than a fuckin’ bike with air in the fuckin’ tires, but I did collect tonnes of cool t-shirts to add to my rack of weirdo band shirts and metal tees…I also added a real gem from “Phat” the infamous “Vietnamese Hair Ninja” down “Windsor Street” that reads, “Guarenteed piece of ass with each haircut” also a wicked hyperbolic tee that reads, “I am the Captain, so Suck it up.”
This fuckin’ hyperbolic Toshiba is gonna be pretty juiced soon. I will write (Vol.1) until it is “Totally juiced.” Fuck it. I am working towards my second gallery show coming up at “Veith Gallery” down “Veith Street.” Great folks, thanks to Veith I am well on my way to establishing my doomed plan to make a living as an artist/writer/bluesman. I did sit in for a 30 minute set with a smokin’ house blues band at open mic down “Bearley’s” on Barrington street, and man these kats can fuckin’ play, so I dragged my god damned three string in a fuckin’ torrential rain to play, how blues and hurtin’ is that eh?? “See you guys Sunday night” I hollared with a drenched cigarette dangling from my lips.
…..To Be Continued