I had to go into work early today at 10 AM and now it’s over twelve hours later and I just got home from a horrible, stress-filled day/night at work. Usually tonight’s swizzle stick night, but I’m fucking beat so I just came home. I’m too burned out to even write a short story so I looked around my apartment for something to write about and saw the books I bought from St. Mark’s Bookshop last night and a light bulb went off over my head. Then the acid flashback went away and I had an idea. I’ll type a random paragraph from each book under a photo of the book and that’ll be tonight’s entry. I may do this every once in a while with some other books in my apartment, so here goes, what I’ve decided to call: "MAD Looks At Books!”
Just Kids by Patti Smith
The Chelsea was like a doll’s house in the Twilight Zone with a hundred rooms, each a small universe. I wandered the halls seeking its spirits, dead or alive. My adventures were mildly mischievous, tapping open a door slightly ajar and getting a glimpse of Virgil Thomson’s grand piano, or loitering before the nameplate of Arthur C. Clarke, hoping he might suddenly emerge. Occasionally I would bump into Gerr Schilff, the German scholar, armed with volumes on Picasso, or Viva in Eau Sauvage. Everyone had something to offer and nobody appeared to have much money. Even the successful seemed to have just enough to live like extravagant bums.
Public Illumination Magazine—Staff: Miss Davenport, Mr. Cologne
Singer-actress Cher was admitted to St. Monica’s Hospital in Los Angeles on Tuesday, complaining of flu-like symptom's and fatigue. On Thursday the hospital’s chief of pulmonary research, Dr. Paul Belsen, announced the the entertainer had been diagnosed with mononucleosis.
I Slept With Joey Ramone by Mickey Leigh with Legs McNeil
The crowd gave it a minute, which was about one whole song. They thought there was a technical problem or something. But when the Ramones began their second song, and it was justl like the first one, the kids in the audience realized that was indeed the show—and then they turned. The look on their faces is a priceless memory for me today, but that night it was pretty scary. Damn, it was only some guys playing music, but the crowd acted like they were stoning a bunch of murderous child molesters.
Masked Superstars of Mexican Wrestling—Photographs by Lourdes Grobet
The public still remembered when the Mexican wrestler shouted to her rival, who laid flat on the mat: “Get up you miserable piece of imported trash!” Never before had a Mexican female wrestler snagged the world crown and few expected Molina to change that. Expectations were high that Willimas would triumph.
100 Whores by Mykola Dementiuk
When you went out with a whore you never knew what you were going to get—a fucking, a blow-job, or just a stinking hand-job. I’d even gone out with a few whores who just lay there while I felt them up. Maybe it was my nature that they read right off the bat, knowing I was just a plain old wuss and they could get away with anything.
Five Random Books On One Of My Bookshelves.
Fast Times At Ridgemont High by Cameron Crowe
The Great Shark Hunt by Hunter S. Thompson
The Verdict by Barry Reed
The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test by Tom Wolfe
The Deer Hunter by E.M. Corder
Bonus Beer Fridge Photos From Britta!
A while back MAD commenter and blogger, Britta commented about her beer fridge and I was curious about it and she sent me these photos of it. Are you like me and are you thinking the following thoughts right now: Party at Britta's! Oh and it was her birthday a couple days ago, so happy birthday to you, Britta! Thanks for the photos!