i live in a non-real place. i chase white rabbits and centaurian midgets. i drink unlabeled elixers and i follow saffron brick roads along communist red walls. i smell embassy plans behind lakeside bar chains. i avoid dining establishments saying *hot fish* and smile at pizza banners reading, *we toss 'em, they're awesome*.. i dance under indonesian violet drapes and kiss aspiring bilingual broadcast journalists. i kneel before warrior script writers and installation magicians who build mushroom fields out of empty medicine capsules. no really. i walk up 4-story magenta wooden flights to sit at tables on see-thru galss floors and discuss india with french film documentarians and inner mongolian television producers. i walk out into the now warm summer-is-so-almost-here nights and climb over gridlocked intersections to meet female kung-fu students and their pot-delivering boyfriends. i wonder how i will suspend myself within the pull of the extreme love and hate i feel for this filthy enchanted neverland.

i have never in my life watched a city, a culture, a standard of living change this fast. i will do my best to bring you.

< yeah >