Friday night (mine) (it’s a poem).

Alight with all the essences

 

I call this Rain Diego, rain for one minute in San Diego

 

The only thing a Fanta and a persimmon have in common is color

 

On the bus Scott looks gorgeous with the night moving black behind him

 

The martinis have back-up olives & back-up gin

 

You know him in the biblical sense

 

HIPSTERS*HIPSTERS*HIPSTERSATTHEARTGALLERY

 

There’s something about knowing someone in the biblical sense that makes it okay to take sips from their drink

 

I should’ve stolen that tiny tiny decanter when I had the chance

 

There’s no such thing as practice floral arrangements. You don’t waste flowers!

 

An empty Dr. Pepper bottle in my greenleather pocket

 

Green leather red leather three friends in leather would be better

 

I feel like such a GIRL when I’m with you

 

This tiny red can of champagne. This tiny red can at the Tin Can Alehouse

 

That girl’s got a wind machine

 

That tiny dog just pooped on the bar room floor

 

-We just danced in circles around thrown-off shoes, you missed it

-Oh I didn’t miss it/I was just waiting/for you to finish doing your thing

 

You’re doing something wrong, without a doubt, but it’s not that you’re wrong

 

I’m goin’ down to the bus station baby with a suitcase in my hand

 

In circles on the bar room floor

 

Walking up 5th is not nearly as hard as Main Street in Pittsburgh

 

If you know someone in the Biblical sense you can lean on them and whisper (the music’s loud)

 

If you know someone in the Biblical sense they might be asleep in your bed against the floor near the ground that will be rained on

 

I’m goin’ down to the bus station baby with a suitcase in my hand

 

Those girls are too skinny for girls

 

Those girls are too SKINNY for boys!

 

A chile relleno burrito/

and sauce/

Hot sauce

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Quotation & photograph (Patti Smith).

Patti Smith, in Interview Magazine, on art and Robert Mapplethorpe:

But the artist has to struggle beneath that canopy, just as we struggled beneath a different canopy—though ours wasn’t as overwhelming. I think that true artists just have to keep doing their work, keep struggling, and keep hold of their vision. Because being a true artist is its own reward. If that’s what you are, then you are always that. You could be locked away in a prison with no way at all to communicate what’s in there, but you’re still an artist. The imagination and the ability to transform is what makes one an artist. So young artists who feel overwhelmed by everything have to almost downscale. They have to go all the way to this kernel and believe in themselves, and that’s what Robert gave me. He believed in that kernel I had, you know, with absolute unconditional belief. And if you believe it, you’ll have that your whole life, through the worst times.

And here’s my favorite picture of Patti Smith:

Read “Just Kids,” people. It is very, very good.