ladies and gentlemen, rebecca jones…

…during the acid trip she bows gracefully like i imagine some nobleperson in a shakespeare play would…she bows exactly like one would bow if one was tripping in the privacy of terry’s living room… while feeling like they were in front of an audience of 400…only she IS in front of an audience of 400…nothings cooler than that shit…

except for when she is trying to groove to youth’s “shower hum song”…she loves him so much she shows it by trying to dance to this utterly wacked tape loop collage…i almost lost it when i saw her do this for the first time…when i’m able to write genius shit like that call me a playwright…but for the time being call rebecca jones…inspired.
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for those unable to attend…

i didnt realize it’d been a week since i’d written anything here…we closed last night…great tight perfectly explosive show to end on…and what a brief yet soul crunching hangover i enjoyed this morning…thanks to homemade cafe for curing it…it was a wild vulnerable night…emotions too widescreen to go into right now…later…i have no voice…but i have lotsa photos…i need to spend the next few days getting my PS Berkeley Life into boxes…we arrived here in, what, mid sept? It feels like both a long and short time ago…But it’s all time…And I can clock this time in joys and sorrows…in downtown’s gin and tonics…in cigarettes smoked in beckett’s alcove…i can clock the time in longing, my friend…sitting on your couch…with you there on the floor…and your face turned naked… cuz i opened up a door…and your face turned softer…sweeter…more innocent than a child’s…and then we drove somewhere…and the party was wild…but you were not there…
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