dreamt that i walked into my mother’s kitchen, and found a live, tied up duck waiting to be killed for dinner.
i freed him, he had very beautiful black eyes, we became the best of friends. my mother was furious.

read excerpts of Andy Warhol’s diary at Sfendoni theater

feels like a school night.
about to be caught red-handed.
sure, i did my homework.
[no, i didn’t]

belle de jour / day off
day de jour / belle off

so much fun last night.
so Andy Warhol was born august 6th.
i was born august 6th too.
ain’t that something?

tonight
at about 8:30pm i’ll be doing a reading
of Andy’s transcribed taped diary
at sfendoni theater
for the lifo Warhol party

ah more dreams fun. this time, charlotte gainsbourg was my girlfriend and we were travelling back and forth to paris and new york in a spaceship, trying to find organic vegetables.

more dumb dreams have been had, again. so last night anna kokkinou was selling off my Mdvaniis -and mind you, those are some quite expensive bitches- to pay off some debts i think? dammit anna. stress stress stress, i can’t stress it enough, stress stress, even in sleep.

dreamt there was an intruder in the apartment, i think female, couldn’t see her, hear her, she was in here though; i was tip toeing from room to room expecting to bump into her and get stabbed, when i saw Peefee lying on the floor butchered to death. picked her up, cried, hid her and continued wandering, holding my breath. i was praying that Souppy had the good sense to get out and hide when i noticed her too, on the floor, dead, in blood. i couldn’t believe that i had lost my girls forever. i decided to kill the motherfucking murderer so i picked up the bild lilli and roamed the place, howling, searching for the demented cunt and kill her with the lilli. then i dunno what, i was taken over by sorrow and i jumped off the balcony. woke up with both monstahs snoring on either side of my head, grabbed them, hugged them and kissed them hard.

i poked a thick sanitized needle through my ear lobe. why? cause. TAXI!!!!!

rehearsal was heinous; aneurysms bonanza. sustenance consisted of one can of beans, two jars of pickles, three cans of tuna, a handful of walnuts, watched “3 Women” twice in a row and now i’ll sleep.

got me a buzz cut. what a buzz. look Tintin-esque.

why didn’t anyone ever tell me that Guy Bourdin is about as magnificent as motherfucking Picasso etc?
must I do all the digging?
fine, I will.

Millie Lammoreaux.

The Bukkake rules.

1. Do your paperwork before you are brought onto set. HIV test and picture ID.
Call time is 7:00am when we start doing paperwork.

2. After you pop, go to the paperwork manager with proof of pop which will be given to you on the set by the production assistant. Give him your name, he will mark it off on release. You get paid one time. Pop all you want; you get paid once.

3. Please be quiet on the set so we can get though this in a professional manner. Do not shove your fingers in the female actress’s cunt or asshole during the cover photo session. During the segment where the girl is filmed masturbating, please be quiet. Do not talk to the girl, as this hinders filming.

it’s a miracle. after 6 years of weekly inflicted torture, Giorgiah the cleaning lady has finally been housebroken. someone gets to keep their job after all.

after a hellish day of hard work, dinner with my friends at the Therapeftirio.
downed an crazy amount or squid prepared on coal.
we all shared our dreams and goals for the the year to come.
H. said she’d be fixin to make a million euro off a real estate project.
she’s capable.
I said something about re-location.
S. said nothing.
the capers in the salad made everything more exciting.
got screwed by my wigmaker.
i may have to do a quick trip to Sweden as a result of that.
how preposterous of me.
my play opens in 20 days. such sweet anticipation.

I know where you live.
not one word.
what do you know about anything?
any time suits me
anytime at all!
rehearsal in 1 hour.

i’m writing this one from under a small, white table. why? cause.