Banana Splitz

This show was the equivalent of LSD to a child. I took a dose of the Splitz once a day when I was three.

Rough of a painting I'm doing for a friend.

Charles Nelson Reilly, 1931-2007- R.I.P

The king of Match Game, I hung on every word this guy said. They could have left the camera on him the whole show. I probably would have watched even more.

Some digital drawings

Munny Design

Sketchbook Ville Bazy, France 2000

Wed. Sept. 5th, 2000 7:30 am

Ville Bazy France

Arrived here yesterday at around 3:30-4, utterly tired. The kind of tired where you literally feel your body's electricity short circuiting. PFITTZ! CRACKLE! SPUTZ!! and your whole being shakes. I consciously realized that you start hallucinating when you're in that state. I hear things that I am thinking with the clarity and volume of someone standing right next to me. I went to bed around 7:50-8 after trying incredibly hard to stay awake. I hadn't slept in 25 hours. Muriel was still talking and drinking at 9:30. Don't know how she does it. She came to bed and as I awoke to her I felt an incredible pang of loneliness. I have no idea why. It was as clear and violent as if someone had struck an iron bell with a lead pipe. And then the feeling dissipated just as the sound would have. I got a vision of...

...my life back in L.A. and felt as if I were missing the entire world. Here I am surrounded by loving attentive people, in a place only few ever dream of visiting and all I can think of is "What's going on back home?" That's fucked up. I think I needed this break more than I realized. Woke up at around 1:00 am and couldn't get back to sleep. Masturbated and then dreamed of shooting a man in the head. My brother and I hid the body and didn't worry about getting caught as the man was always getting into duels and trying to kill me as well. After all, we could always blame it on one of his duels. Woke up again around 4:30 and Muriel was awake. We talked for awhile and I told her about the sadness I had felt earlier and she comforted me the best she could at the moment. Laid in bed until 6:30 then got up and took a walk. Saw a great looking Billy Goat that resembled Dr. Zeus from Planet of the Apes.

Thursday Sept. 6th 8:30 am


After I wrote yesterday, I had a great day. We took a walk, stopped and talked to some of the locals, had a couple of pastis at Danielle and Rudy's house , then came home for lunch. And it all went bad from there. From lunch on I had a horrible stomach ache. Got sick and missed dinner that night. But all ended up ok. I worked late and got on a regular time schedule. My stomach this morning is a little shaky but nothing a horse ride I don' think wouldn't cure. Going out with Rudy at 9:00 this morning. Just got called to breakfast.

Just got back, 12:45 pm from riding Domingo the horse. Absolutely one of the more beautiful times of my life. You couldn't have asked for a more perfect ride. It was cloudy and cool, the wind blowing , on a cliff...

...overlooking the Pyrenees mountains. 3 and a half hours. Jesus! I'm wonderfully exhausted. Time for lunch.

Friday September 8th , 7:45 am


I think I'll go walk and get the brain juices flowing. Can't think of anything to write except a list of activities today. Walk, eat, paint, drink, smoke,eat, hike, Go to the Harvest Festival in Limoux, call Steve Martin, eat, sleep.
It's 12:20 and Muriel and I got lost in the mountains. Fun though. We wound up wandering through farmers grape groves I'd say about 3 miles from...

...where we wanted to be. Found wild boar shit. Felt like cub scouts again but without the homophobia. Ate bark, pro-created, fought off hostile tribe from the north. Killed all males and kept females to expand the clan. Life is good.

Sept. 9th, 12:50 am

Just got back from the Harvest Festival. Ate kind of shitty pizza. Who the fuck puts chunks of brie on a pizza? The French do. But Limoux is so damn beautiful it didn't matter. Walked down a carnival street afterwards and rode "Le Spookhouse" with tatie Danielle. Saw a woman sliced in half, a bum puking into a trashcan (oooo scary!), and as twine rippled over our heads a ghost (or rather a guy dressed as one) grabbed Danielle. She was screaming so loud I had to plug my ears. It was very loud. Then, after having a beer, saw a French band called "California From the Planet 2000". Jesus . They were playing the Blade Runner soundtrack...

...but because they didn't understand English, they played the clips from the movie out of order. So while blue lights and white spots hit a robot (or rather a woman dressed up as one) emerging from a makeshift, plywood flying saucer, phrases such as "Do you like my owl?" and "Is this to be an empathy test?" were shot out at the audience for their sci-fi satisfaction. But I had a fantastic time. How could you not when the band is playing Mambo #5, Knock on Wood and Celtic Rap in space outfits. This was the REAL Spinal Tap. No one in the audience would clap, that was upsetting. Fucking snobs.

Saturday September 10th, 1:45pm

Nothing going on today. Really... nothing. Took a walk. Looked at some animation on the computer. Drew a little. Learned a magic trick. Getting bored, fast. Might go to Spain to see the Dali museum. That would be nice. Party tonight and visiting Carcasonne tomorrow. Ciao!

Sunday September 12th, 8:55am

Just awoke to gunshots outside. Hunting season has started for wild boars. People hunting wild boars, not saying it's ok for wild boars to hunt... whatever. Shots fire and dogs bark unexpectedly and if you wait for it, startles you. Ironic that I started reading Ghandi's biography on the day hunting season started. Went to a party last night that Henry, Muriel's father, threw for Ville Bazy. It was charming. I was bored but not in a painful or bad way. I was bored in the way that anything entertains you, so I made chairs out of champagne cork tops* for the kids. Came home around 11:00 and went to bed. I must have been tired because I fell straight to sleep and didn't wake until 7:30. You can never tell how really tired you are around here. You don't know if it's exhaustion or deep relaxation. These 3:00 naps are a killer though. You go into such a deep sleep, when you wake up...

... a couple of hours later, you're intensely groggy and it takes you a good 2-3 hours to fully wake up. Sometimes you feel like you might be sick or might pass out. It's definitely not like waking up in the morning. We're buying dinner tonight for everyone in Carcasonne and I will call my mother tonight. Chus.

September 11th, 12:00 pm

Just writing to remind myself to write about the key walk and the "order of operations" on the opening of the windows.

September 12th, 8:35am

Yesterday, Muriel and I took a walk to St. Hilaire. We were about to walk there, which is about 4 kilometers (3.5miles roughly) and then wait for Henry to pick us up. First we had to help Henry and Michelle (Muriel's mother) clean up the community center from the party the night before. So we went down, loaded up the champagne bottles, CD's...

...and stereo, trash etc. and loaded it into Henry's car. Then Muriel and I started off. We got about 3 miles into the walk when I realized I had the car keys in my pocket. Yahoo. Muriel started in. I could do nothing but laugh. I suggested we continue onto St. Hilaire as her dad surely had another key to the car, but Muriel wouldn't hear of it. So we started back. Three quarters of the way back Henry pulled up in his car. HEY! He had an extra key. An exciting day as far as action in Ville Bazy goes.

September 12, 9:50 am

Just saw Muriel off on Domingo, so now her legs will be sore tomorrow as well. Ha, ha. I love being around those horses. It's humbling. BUT, about the order of operations. We have 3 windows here in the living room of this house, two on one wall and one on the other (see diagram*)...

... All 3 open up manually and have shutters attached to all 3. Every morning they are opened by Muriel's mother. One morning, I woke up early and decided to open the windows for her. 1, then 2, then 3. I came back into the room a couple of minutes later and #1 was closed. I thought, ok, don't open #1. She doesn't like that one opened in the morning. So the next morning I opened #2 and #3 only. 1 hour later, 2 was closed and 1 and 3 were open. I thought. I thought hard. Then I had it. They were on rotation. So the next day I only opened 1 and 2 seeing as 3 hadn't had a day closed yet. Right? I came back and 1 and 2 were closed leaving 3 opened. Ok... 3 always stays open 1 and 2 are on rotation opened every other day. I woke up the next morning and thought...

... 2 and 3 open the first day, 1 and 3 the second day... "I must have jumped ahead! 2 AND 3 CLOSED!!" Ha! I was a genius! I came back... 2 and 3 were closed and 1 was open. So the next morning I turned on the light and left all the windows closed. It was the first time I had done something right. They remained closed the rest of the day.

September 12th, 10:30am

Forgot to call mother! And we didn't go to Carcasonne last night. There's a gas strike going on here which means NO ONE except ambulances and police cars, fire engines etc. can buy gas. Just can't. Period. No exceptions. So we might have to stay here until we go home so we can save gas in order to get back to the hotel... hotel? Airport. Brain starting to relax... finally. Good sign.

Oops. Tuesday September 12th, 12:20 pm

I've been behind by one day. Shit. Everything on e has read thus far actually happened yesterday. I'm outside the Dali museum on a sunny day in Spain. I'm sitting at an outdoor cafe. This is great. I'm enjoying a beer and a cigarette before a Dali salad and gnocchi with gorgonzola.

Wednesday September 13th, 8:55 am

Well... to catch up. The gorgonzola gnocchi made me a little ill, but that was to be expected. The Dali museum was fantastic. These artist museums are always so much better than the city museums. They're by the artist and the building, lighting and air itself feels as if you are in one of their paintings or sculptures. Nothing more inspiring. Bought books (of course) and then went driving through the winding Pyrenees. Beautiful but the carsickness... oof.

We arrived in Cadaques and found a hotel called "Hotel Misty" which in German means "Hotel Shitty". Charming. The place is nice but slept "Misty" like, and am now waiting for our free breakfast. Can't wait... Hope it's not "Misty" as well. Went out last night and had seafood paella. Fantastic!! The moon rose over the darkening city full and golden. The sea lapped up on the shore calmly. Muriel, her parents, tatie Danielle and I sat outside overlooking all this. Incredible. I explained three times this morning that the women's soccer teams from Australia and Germany are playing and Germany's team is leading the game. They asked "Oh the amateur?" I said, "No, the Olympics." They said "Who?" I said the women's soccer team for the Olympics." They said "Germany?" "Yes... and Australia." I replied. They said "The World Cup?" "No... the Olympics." I said starting to wonder what I had gotten myself into. "OH! Yes, yes, yes ok..." 10 minutes later...

...after having the same discussion with her parents and aunt, Muriel says, "Die frauen soccer fur Olympics..." and they all said in unison, "OHHH!!!! Die frauen soccer fur die Olympics!" And they all looked at me as if to say "Why didn't you say so, cock?" Ah the wonders of language. Jeffrey called me to apologize for POP.com closing down and to thank me for all the hard work I put in on Morto. It's nice to have acknowledgment that one is appreciated. That usually quells any dissatisfaction one might have with one's job. Unless you're a real hard case or just want to get the fuck out. Obviously the gas strike has ended, otherwise we wouldn't be here in Spain. Breakfast has arrived. What?! Gnocchi?!!

Thursday September 14th, 9:35am

Just finished having breakfast after sleeping like a fucking log all night. After breakfast yesterday, we wound and wound along the cliffs and winding drops through the mountains next to the Mediterranean Sea. The Pyrenees are insane. If it wasn't for the carsickness, the anxiety attacks would have gotten to me. Probably the most dangerous driving I've ever been through. The roads in these little towns don't fit two cars side by side, not wide enough and yet they are two way streets. So as you can imagine there's a lot of backing up and then trying to dart through before another car comes along. There's also NO parking in any of these Mediterranean villages. NONE. At least cities like San Francisco has lots you can pay to get into. Between this and the winding cliffs with nothing but old rock and sometimes thin pieces of government sanctioned safety tin between you and a long drop to your death, the day was eventful. Oh, and there was...

...that and the fact that Henry and Danielle were arguing most of the time trying to figure out which way to go. But even with all this, the trip was not only memorable but beautiful . The villages I spoke of were stunning. Little Chitty Chitty Bang Bang sets. Apartments hovering only 2 or 3 stories all painted in different primary colors. We stopped and I swam in the Med. Sea. So nice. Beautiful topless women sauntered back and forth on the beach whilst I floated in the calm, wave less, jade water of 72 degrees. Heaven. We then stopped at a more typical beach, still along the Med Sea, but as the other beaches had rocks, this one had sand. But the water was still warm, mostly wave less but for a few tiny ones and turquoise blue and green. We then drove home, exhausted. Of course we had to stop in St. Hilaire for dinner. Something I did not look forward to...

...as I was salty, sweaty, tired and cranky, but I'm just along for the ride so... The atmosphere was great. It's a little pub/cafe that only serves one meal. French mac and cheese topped with some sort of beef stew, bread, wine, 6 different types of cheeses, wine, rum, or chocolate ice cream... oh, and wine. All the wine you could drink for one price. Tried goat cheese with a little honey and some cracked pepper on top for the first time today. It's fucking brilliant!! The chef made eggs specially for us so Muriel was trying to get me to eat it. Shit I wanted the mac and cheese. I wasn't especially hungry either. Didn't eat em. No one cared.

Friday September 15th, 9:30am

Just writing to mention that I've never heard so much Phil Collins. They love him here. It's nice to hear some old Genesis stuff, not to mention some songs off of his first few albums, but they usually only play the new horny housewife shit. I've not heard anything new by Phil Collins in years and now I can honestly say I don't care. Fuck it's bad.
11:40am
Relaxing on the porch on a foggy morning. I can now say that I am officially relaxed. Good vacation. Take the next two days for this relaxed state of mind to sink in deep, then let Air France dash it all away with that horribly uncomfortable plane ride. By the time I reach L.A. and go through customs, I'll be ready for another week off. It's amazing how the airlines have uncomfortable, human cattle transport...

...down to such a science that two weeks of sheer relaxation can be completely ruined in a little over 10 hours. If it's not the lack of legroom, the dry air or noise, it's the constant sting in your wallet and the uneasy feeling you've been ripped off if you happen to be traveling business class. I won't even go first. I saw the cabin in first. It sure as hell ain't worth $10,000.00. Yes, that's right folks, 10,000.00 U.S. dollars to secure the privilege of flying in their first class cabin. The only difference I could tell is the seats went all the way back into a lying position and you were only around 1 other person instead of two or three. All other benefits don't matter on a 10 hour plane ride. After 5 or 6 hours, everything is uncomfortable except my own bed. I hate the airlines.
Peace.

The order of the day is-
1. Visit Muriel's grandmother
2. Visit her uncle Claude's house
3. Visit her parents friends later
Yesterday was so nice. Just sat, read , drew and walked. That's all I wanted to do. I do love driving around seeing museums, cities etc. but relaxation is key. Swam in the water hole yesterday. About 65 degrees in the water. I was only one who got in. I was ready for an alligator to nab me. The water was murky and it was a bitch getting out as the rocks were so mossy and slippery.

Saturday September 16th, 9:35am

Well, hung out at the house till around 3:00. Drew, read, Muriel painted a nice picture of Ville Bazy... Then everything went very surreal. Very, very weird and eerie. At 3:00 we drove to visit Muriel's grandmother...

...She's in an old age home and has been for 3-5 years. She can't move. Her brain is still functioning normally but she can't even lift a glass of water to take a drink. Walked through hallways of basically living death. I felt so sorry for all the people there. The walls and doorways were all painted lavender. Then I went into Muriel's grandmother's room. "Oma" as they called her. Two twin beds flanked either side of the room. One with bars and a mechanical control and one without. She sat in a wheelchair staring blankly. I kissed her hello and she remembered my name from 3 years ago. I sat in a chair with a toilet built into the bottom of it while Muriel and her mother and uncle helped...

...feed her juice from a cup. Henry couldn't stand being there and said a quick goodbye and whisked me out of there. He explained how the thought of ever being in a place like that made him sick. We walked down the street and sat at a cafe and had 2 beers and 2 cigarettes each. Then we walked back. We went back into the room and said goodbye to Oma. We wheeled her to a sitting room where about 6 other inmates sat staring at a TV with some cheesy French songstress wheedling out a passionless tune. We said goodbye again and began to walk away, leaving her there basically alone. I was the last one out of the room and as I turned and looked down the dark hallway leading to the TV room, I saw her watch us go, helpless...

... and alone. I turned and looked 3 or 4 times at her. I wanted to wheel her out of there and down the beautiful roads of South France, even if it meant her dying. Muriel says she's been praying for death for years. After that we left and drove back to Ville Bazy and suddenly stopped in front of a house. Everyone sat in silence, then Muriel's mom got out and rattled off something in German. We were stopping to have drinks with someone. We all got out of the car and went into the yard. We sat down and had 2 pastis for about an hour and a half. We then wandered back up to the house where dinner was promptly started. I read and Muriel continued painting for about another hour and a half. Everything happens in that increment of time...