And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas

There's a whole lot of closet cases walking around out there with shorts and neo-primitive tattoos and a tongue bolt. Well...they throw me off. Exits are everything-that and a centerfold!

Welcoming back Mr. Motion back on the stage for act I in the nursery. I heard destiny calling.

But wait, fair reader, because this little dreamer was about to embark on a lot more than what we in the industry call a 'phoner.' Not two days passed before I was summoned. After a barrage of phone calls, and date/time changes,

you're not really listening, but Jesus, the color of the room! It changes what's happening outside your three dimensional mat-painting windows.

Doesn't it sound like a stripper's name or a joke you made back in junior college about the first girl to get remade breasts?

Well, all those trips make for folklore and the fans revel in it. And it ain't adventure until shit rains out of the sky onto your big adventure. I challenge you to a duel to the death for your disrespect. You have just taken a day out of my torture book and put it into my book of dreams.

What can I possibly do? Can you teach me something with the sword? Can you give me some advice? I'm a suburbanite . Here is somebody who's been swinging around a 14 pound straight razor since he was 16 years old. And the sword smith laughed and said, 'Yes, I can teach you two things. First I will show you one cut, because I cannot teach you fencing in one night. One cut only. ‘

Anyone gets hit, sing out. Slap iron to it. It's the fastest way to stop the bleeding.

I've heard guns.

There is no hope on this Earth for you or even in the next life. Get used to it. All is lost. Not that you are prepared to give up all, but that all is already lost. You have a chance of sending him to Hell as you ascend.

The struggle. When all else was put to the side.

It should look like it sounds. And it should be Esperanto. It should cross all racial, economic and language barriers. When I did the sword routine, that's classic kung fu. Why do I do what I do? Or why do it the way I do it?

Or even pretend that you're doing a backhand in tennis.

Excuse me, I’m sorry, here is was in my own little world daydreaming about candy bracelets. And this one’s the sharpshooter. Although the devils onion ring may be a low carb diet, the man still laughs at the decaying millions. Cleaning and Firing of the Hotchkiss Revolving Cannon on the Battleship Texas.

I’m here on the ground with my nose in it since the whole thing began.

I also believe in the Kabuki method that you should be able to freeze the action at any single point in time and have a perfect photograph. The best photography, according to the great photographer Diane Arbus, always shows the flaw. The guy who gets himself totally fixed up, thinks he's looking sharp, cool and happening, but his pants are four inches too short or the belt shouldn't really be poly-vinyl-fluoride. You know what I'm saying? I believe that imperfection, when you are completely immersed in the thing at hand, won't deliver a bad photograph. And it's not bounded in the west by Tulip, Texas, or in the east by Somali-land.

(gestures around the room), this looks more like a magazine office.

I'm the one who decides to do the thing where you set up the sheet, do a shadow show, and you use your flashlight to be really obscene. If I am killed and my trough stands empty day after day, you'll grow so thin we can look right through your stomach and see objects on the other side, There will never be talking pictures. King Kong never had it so clean.

Deep beneath an ancient shadow
Stunned with age and too much wisdom
Reclined in glass, with eyes too steep
Relentless dimensions of quadraphonic sleep
Dwelt the wild grinning cyclopean pagan
Screaming destruction in sheer dazzling raiment
A thunderbolt master a 'lecronic savior
A gold galactic raver, the Futuristic Dragon
Yes, and I do mean yes

Salad never looked so good.