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And as for shoving anything down my throat or kicking me in the side (with no doubt a fearsome gen-u-ine imitation Jackie Chan Haayyeeaahh!) it takes twice the man you are to Bitch-slap me Grasshopper, course if you hafta be one of the sheep and play the game do the 9 to 5 because so much is riding on it then come to terms with it and quit whining. Understand the lie you live and take it from there, he said on the radio interview that he was no longer out to change the course of modern music. Instead it was simply a matter of three guys over the age of thirty getting together, he told me that he couldn't understand why in the interest of preservation and tradition all standards were eradicated in favor of all participants equaling one another, he wrote that Americans are suspicious of art but are especially suspicious of art which produces no material product nothing for sale or what is commonly called "ephemera", I as an artist would get three times richer in many ways and much more respect if I only knew how to use a word like "sliding signifier" but most of the people who use those words are dirt poor, I can disappear for periods of up to a week or pound the walls insanely for hours or wander around in slippers and a winter coat and prescription sun-glasses and nobody fucking cares, life becomes increasingly immaterial ephemeral. We have trouble defining what we can't grab. Our activities show themselves to be more of what they truly are -- ephemeral gestures, next time somebody tells me they'd rather read the newspaper in print rather than at their kitchen table because they don't get "warm fuzzies" from computers I'm going to wrap my toilet seat cover, she asked me how I was doing in my transition from my late twenties to my early thirties. I replied "Thank you for asking. Well it's not perfect but on the whole I think I am doing much better", talking to you is like trying to carry a basket of live turkeys up the side of the Empire State Building in a gale -- very hard extremely dangerous full of gobble and covered in feathers, what I've discovered is that out of every 10 songs there is 1 or maybe 2 that I actually like and that I am *WILLING* to wait through 8 or 9 songs until the ones I like come on the air, the idea of a writer terrifies me. I hate to think of all of those fat white pasty bodies sitting in cheesy beige Upper West Side apartments writing dreadful fiction behind their computers, What's up with that? Did you lie and cheat a lot last month or something? I don't get it and the picture ain't too clear but hey you sure know how to burn those calories and still get away with eating creamy sour, you are Generation X the hardest fucking market to crack of all time but we will get this hip stick here and hit this tag with it and pretty soon you will be watching commercials like never before;