I could totally be an astronaut, cuz fake food is my fave food.

I’d rather eat a protein bar wrapped in aluminum than a big ass steak glistening with blood and fat.

Cereal is good. So are ice pops and juice shakes and candy.

That said, my fake food thing has nothing to do with being a vegetarian. Cuz I’m not a vegetarian. I’ll eat bacon bits and popcorn fried chicken before I’ll slice into steamed broccoli—its shiny stalk shuddering with perspiration. Meat, fish, dairy…whatevs. These classifications don’t concern me. It’s the notion of consuming anything that is or was once alive that makes my throat close. It’s the foodness factor of the food that matters. I want it to be so far processed that it looks like it was boomeranged back from the future.

In other news, Jamie’s book arrived yesterday. If u haven’t ordered yr copy of Envy the Rain u best get on that shit. He’s one of the trailblazers in this whole globber revolution—he’s carving out a new landscape with his words and leading us thru this bible black pre-dawn into a brand new blog morning.

Get this book cuz it’s gonna be worth something someday. I’m not just saying that cuz I had a tiny part in editing it, tho that was some ferreal brainstorming, me on my one hitter in Jamie’s phat loft, brainstorming the best way to bring his renaissance talents (the dude writes, paints, picture takes, rocks out AND finds time to hangout with zillions of beautiful women) to the written page. He has an amazing ability to find the “escape hatches” in the everyday—the corners and back alleys of experience, where one’s mind can wander and rise up and look down upon itself from on high…

His book is amazing. I’m super proud of him, even if he did end up passing on my suggestion for the title— Dem Crazy Hos

So go buy it now. I'll wait right here till u get back.

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