WARTHOG ON THE BILLFOLD, MAN

[lambmcspicy]

HEY! There was some bird party outside the kitchen winders the other afternoon. Avian mixer of sorts, loud, fat little birds, brown and yelling and ruffling. So loud! So fat and ruffly! All perched on the window bars. I saw one in the midst of elimination, two feet from my face. First time I've ever seen that, little nether feathers parting like I was the staff of Moses. At work I talked about bird elimination when my colleague, who'd had the wolf dream I mentioned some entries back (cowboyboot hotdog entry), said that he'd never seen birds having sex, since I was talking about my new favourite painter Walton Ford and his painting of some birds doin' it on an erect elephant penis, top bird holding down the bottom bird's wings with one of his black bird feet. WALTON FORD! BIRD ON BIRD! BULL ON TIGER! INTERSPECIES SEX! Says Ford:
"Blue whales are a drag. They're big but boring... What do they eat, krill? I cannot paint a krill eater. The thing doesn't have any fucking teeth. I like things that bite. A sperm whale, Moby-Dick, that's my kind of subject. A bad-ass."

Then a few days later, a few days ago, I received a very serious telephone message from Robert Whitman, regarding a VIP Guggenheim reception for his new work Local Report. He asked me to bring him a present. Cara and I drank lots of schmoozy red wine and ran up the rotunda making fun of the RUSSIA! exhibition, which is actually really good, albeit super funny when you're feeling toasted, ballsy, and fancy.

AND: williamambrose.com, woah! warthog on the billfold, man!