April 28 1998, Tuesday

Jessika wanted to go to the Downtown Mall and so did I, so we set out together on foot. We managed to miss all the free buses, so we walked all the way. The day was cool, but warmer slightly than yesterday. In the sun it was actually kind of hot, and Jessika soon regretted her decision to wear vinyl pants.

In front of the Downtown Artspace, Nikolai, David Sickmen, Eric John Eric and the usuals were all hanging out. Nikolai was positively depressed. The English Professor who was to buy several of his expensive works (along with Toby Far Afield) couldn't pick up his purchases today as scheduled; his car has broken down and he'll need to buy another. The unexpected financial situation has made our art look more like luxuries than investments. Fortunately for me, someone else is already lined up to buy Toby. Jen Fariello excitedly gave me this news during a brief forray into the gallery. Nikolai, on the other hand, has no other suitors.

When I returned to the surface, I found a whole new crowd of people: Peggy, the Baboose and Zach along with most of the Counselors. Additionally, Morgan Anarchy was there with two of his gutter punk friends from New Orleans who had just drifted into town. They'd raised $8 panhandling and wanted to know if I'd buy cheap whiskey for them. Instinctively I knew to say know, which I'm very glad I did. As Jessika put it later, when you agree to buy liquor for gutterpunks:

• you pay for most of it
• the money they give you consists of hand fulls of pocket change
• you go into the store to buy it
• you drink very little of it
• in so doing, you expose yourself to their diseases
• they end up sleeping at your house

(Actually, the last two points are my own.) Jessika and I went to Higher Grounds and sat for awhile and various people came by. One of the things we learned while sitting there was that Morgan and the New Orleans gutterpunks had found Matthew Hart and Angela and were now eating pizza with them at Sal's. Jessika predicted that Matthew would buy them their whiskey, get very drunk himself (mostly as a demonstration of his own dissolute proclivities) and "trouble" would ensue.

When we finally left the mall, Jessika and I went on a couple dumpster diving missions. First, at the computer place on Preston, I got a couple of 486 motherboards of unknown utility. Then, across the street at Bodo's, Jessika found garbage bags full of thrown-out bagels. I'd gone inside Bodo's to wash dumpster grunge off my hands and get two "Taurus Rising Specials" (my name for an "Everything Bagel" prepared with all the free toppings). One of these I gave to Jessika; they're only about 50 cents each. The Bodos staff gave Jessika paper bag which she requested, and we filled it (and my "to go" bag) with bagels from the dumpster. They smelled delicious.

Feeling unusually wealthy, I bought a half gallon of vodka at the Main Street ABC store. The nice ABC lady gave me an extra big bag so I could also carry my bagels.

B

ack at Kappa Mutha Fucka, I put the finishing touches on a careful packaging job for my painting Pizza Bomb Crisis, which I'll be shipping to Lucy Huntzinger tomorrow. She's been nagging me to do this for months now.

Jessika was unusually bitchy today, for no apparent reason. She demanded that I wash the dishes while I was in the midst of eating a dumpster dived bagel, and when I objected, she proceeded to criticize me for never cleaning up around the house, a charge that seemed unfair. Adding a patronizing quality to her lecture, she sat down and drew up some kind of ridiculous work chart. In my own defense, I have three things to say:

censored so as not to have to deal with tiresome bullshit