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Now what? First I have to say that was one of the best partys I've been to. And being denied when Chris just slipped through. And when I started to call them pussy's to their faces ( i was a little buzzed) I told them that I'd be sure to explain this,(you let movie stars in why not poets) to Nolte like a new him and i don't, i exclusively write for him though and others to and I'm the best poet that nobody has ever heard of(so unimpressed), i have this camera in my nipples sitting in cold cell without shoes or socks or shades like a animal(yes this is not a cliche i ended up in jail). The beers at those partys were "deluxe" Nobodys scared besides 'fuck you?' I notice the bouncers were a little lacking in effort, so I went around and walked in cause, once your in, your In, No matter what. I saw David Navaro at the gallery with his dazzling wife and i accidently dis him, it was me who knew the artist, this got me goods on the reception cause I spent most the time talking to the artist (I forgot her name though). Its wierd when your really wasted and your being searched in a cell with all of them watching you. Paul Davis is a great artist he lives in the same desert town that I have a coffee house in. I f i talked more about Me as a coffee house swinger. Then Me as the dionysian poet that will do some crazy shit like get arrested driving a vehicle with a little score of greens. Did I ever mention about the face-to-face encounter with a mountain lion, the story about the keys, what Alaska is like in the summer, bummin in hollywood like a garunteed wash out on the open mic of weather torn streets, My car. My first phone call at the police station went something like this, be sure to visit sometime...........,