At some level one has to let themself lapse into a delusional unconsciousness to get a better perspective of things...things? those ever-present idiosyncratic proclivities of western world-view...as soon as ideas became a form of currency, we've been bombed by hyper-imagism...notions of privacy start to flutter with technology...your sanctuary can be penetrated easily by anyone with a telephone...

The other night two drunk girls (friends) stumbled into my apartment...their reality or perception thereof stood in direct contrast to mine....one decided that we should have a seance to reach James Dean with me as the medium...while the other wanted to convince the world (in pontifical fashion) of the fact that we hide from our shit....her words...roughly....all i wanted to do was call my girlfriend and have a ridiculously lewd conversation....we found ourselves downtown in a freezing Toronto later on that evening at the Green Room where two pints were dumped on my lap...soaked in suds and ready to slit throats...the girl who had proposed the seance decided she wouldn't be leaving when i left, but rather would wait to see what the roguish bartender was doing after last-call....left her without compunction...as it should be...