Some shit dick made some comments on my last post about how much my art sucks. …As if i didn’t already know.

But anyway, i went to Joshua Tree yesterday to get some peace and molecular regenerations in my soul and all I got was this stupid t-shirt. Then I spent 50-cent on a local newspaper, but there wasn’t any news in the “all good news” Desert Star. There were few real estate ads. I’m so used to our papers being saturated with that kind of thing in LA, so i was surprised. I was looking for vacant land, which sounds a little boring, but on the way back I drove through a wind storm, a dust storm, a rain storm, a mud storm, and a rainbow.

we rented a house near Joshua tree called Space Rabbit Ranch. It’s on a 5 acre property and we were allowed to bring the dog. We saw bunnies, lizards, Eddy Izzard, dirt devils, and dancing stars.

So many stars, it’s a sin to try to describe them.

This morning I woke up just before sunrise and shot a picture of the well in the yard. It looked like a movie set. Something unsettling about it.

I filmed a little bit of nothing while I was there too. A little bit of desert schtick. I’ll edit it into something eventually.

Michael and I went back and forth between a couple of properties that we would like to try to buy and pay on for a while. We have a dream of one day building our own mud house on it and living off the grid when we’re 64. I will dream this until I get hit by a bus.

Before I left, I completed 1/12th of the painting I’m working on. The rest of the painting is the underpainting for your information! Not that I’m defending it, I’m just noting it here you bastards!

Well, I better get back to work. I have to prep for a lecture I’m giving this Wednesday at Cal State University Long Beach about my unsophisticated art that said meanie-commentor was apparently doing at age 14. I sure hope my lecture won’t be as grotesque and pathetic of a disservice to academia as my disgusting art has been to the genius world of anonymous art bloggers.

I will wear a plastic bag over my clothes just in case of any flying tomatoes.

If I sound mad at you, I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m mad at ghosts, not you.

Tomorrow I’m calling Mel Benson. I’m pretty sure we want the land that’s bigger and closer up to the park than the smaller one with all the incredible boulders on it that’s a bit too close to the highway. I’ll put in my very low, and possibly insulting, bid. All we can do is try, right?

Good night everybody. Goodnight Horsey.

PS: My friend Judith Hoffberg send me this today. Pretty funny!