In the black star there's a red light

Delirious days have followed since last. The streets seem to have gotten a serene light from a spring weary sun.
Three girls are sitting on the tram looking at me. What are they looking at? They're really starting to break my fucking balls.
Anyways with another successful testshoot in my pocket I feel that the day has been fruitful. And tomorrow I venture of to Pesaro for a night of goneness and financial abuse of some rich italian guys money.

Saturday was a given night of the carnevale. A huge fuck off orgy of confetti, floats and some very weird transvestites. We decided to spend our night at le fantasique PLASTIC. The halls were deck with artificial snow that glowed in the ultra violet lighting. It broke of the floor from the black walls with orange and green neon bubbles on. Dancing like butterflies on mandrax and I glutenized happily in Jack Daniels and Coca Cola all night. The night came to an end around 6 am when we to flight on a homebound tram.

Swirling nights, delirious days and some thoughts about a cat on cocaine that deleted his myspace and moved to San Diego.

Live long and prosper (vulcan)

Extra add:
"He would have to roam the entir united states looking and look in every garbage pail from coast to coast before he found me embryonically convoluted among the rubbish of my life, his life, and the life of everbody concerned and not concerned. What would I have said to him from my rubbish womb? "Don't bother me, man, I'm happy where I am. You lost me one night in Detriot in August 1949. What right have you to come and disturb my reverie in the pukish can?""