(Stanley Kubrick for Look magazine)
The offers keep rolling in. I've just gotten another dj'ing gig in Buenos Aires. Panama is still pending. Any day now I'll have my own reality tv show. The continued slow-motion fall of an already limping lion.
My show could be called "Tarantulas and Tranquilizer Lawn Darts..."
It's a good thing I got a new passport. I'll be stamping it up in no time. I might make a stamp of my own, treat my townhouse as a sovereign nation. Pretend that I'm at EPCOT for world beer day. Who knows.
Well, we'll see.
I am beginning to think that I just might need a job, in the event that the dj'ing career doesn't work out for me again. We will be running out of money soon and none of my projects have made it past the concept stage. Some of them haven't even made it that far. It's too bad, really. I had hoped to sit back and watch the money just roll in through the front door. I willed it that way at my yoga class. Now - with the return of DJ Wile E. Loman - I'll have to be out that front door, hitting the bricks, as they say.
If anybody is looking for an aging entertainer with a set of badly crushed nerves in his lower spine and one balding testicle, then I'm your man. I do vaudeville, sideshow, freak show, burlesque, strip-tease, hair and makeup, all of it. You will be entertained to the point of confusion, fear and desperation... never knowing which survival instinct will arrive first. I promise. Look into my favorite eye. It's a double your money back guarantee. Fuck it, triple your money back guarantee. You have my oath, my very word in writing, floating there on the screen in front of you, sort of.
If you can find better odds anywhere then my name still 'aint Nathan Arizona...
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