Wow. I’m going to start right off with a digression.

Valentine’s Day on Instagram is quite a fertile little world, in and of itself. The things people choose to post can be just really illuminating.

A poet I follow who lives in Canada — I actually know her, but we haven’t worked together in years. She seems to have quite an eclectic assortment of vibrators. And they also seem to have some sort of seasonal appeal. Meaning — much like me and my dishes — she has favorites for various times of the year and she photographs them (just the vibrator itself) and posts it to Instagram.

Yesterday, of course, she posted a photo of her Valentine’s Day vibrator. (It was red and looked almost sort of like a heart – in a Salvador Dali kind of way).

It would never, in a million years, occur to me to post anything like that to Instagram (or anywhere, actually). (Not that I have an eclectic assortment of vibrators. I’m just saying.)

But I guess, in a way, that’s art. Or perhaps visual erotic poetry, or something like that. (When she’s not photographing vibrators for the various holidays, she photographs chairs — all sorts of chairs that she sees abandoned on the streets.) (There are quite a huge amount of chairs abandoned on the streets in Canada, in case you were curious.)

Of course, Dana Petty posted a beautiful photo of herself with Tom, and said something about love, quoting Anais Nin. And then, moments later, one of Tom’s daughters posted a photo of Tom with his first wife, Jane. (So the step-mother-daughter feud seems to be alive and well out there in LA.)

Tom, of course, didn’t post anything at all to his Instagram page this year because he’s dead.

(Although his “official page” is still alive and well.) (And kicks into high gear whenever there’s something new from WB Records to merchandize — to make money off of him, posthumously.)

(Which only always makes me think of that staggering song he wrote, “Joe,” from The Last DJ album in 2002: So burned out Johnny thinks the books are shifty/ What good’s that alky to me when he’s fifty?/ Well we could move catalog if he’d only die quicker/ Send my regards to the gig and a case of good liquor/ He gets to be famous, I get to be rich/ He gets to be famous, I get to be rich…)

Then there was the usual assortment of really, really cute animal videos for Valentine’s Day.  (And I mean, really cute, gang. From owls to koalas, to tiny kittens playing with baby pigs. Just too fucking cute.)

And, of course, the veritable deluge of Keanu photos for Valentine’s Day. Currently, they are mostly of him with his mom at the Oscars (his fall-back female when he wants the paparazzi to fuck-off). (He has taken his mom to many, many, camera ops over the decades. And she always looks so fucking good. That mom of his doesn’t age at all.)

(I’m seriously hoping that he and that really cool artist woman haven’t broken up, and that her absence was only a case of her saying “no way am I ever appearing with you in public again, dude, ever” — because she seriously got eaten alive by the tabloids after that last thing at the LA Art Museum-Gucci thing.  They just seemed so fucking happy together, though, so I would really hate to think they broke up. And he still looked really happy at the Oscars — (not that I watched it, I see the world through my Instagram feed!) (I hate awards shows) — I don’t think he’s got any kind of a broken heart or anything; I think maybe he just enjoys fucking with the tabloids.)

Anyway. A lot gets revealed on Instagram. Especially on Valentine’s Day. Or perhaps even very early the following morning. I, however, only ever post photos of my various cats or what the weather looks like outside of my various windows, or if there’s a full moon over Basin Street. Always the same sort of non-committal thing. (The blog is revealing enough, I think.)

Oh, and the official Nick Cave page posted a promo for his upcoming art exhibit in Copenhagen that was very humorous — and extremely short. I watched it 3 times before I realized I was watching the same clip over & over. But it was funny.

It had all the elements of an Abstract Absurdity Production, in fact!!

Which actually was what I wanted to post about today. All that stuff up above this is just a massive digression.

Peitor and I got such great work done on the “Lita” script yesterday! And I know this will sound perhaps absurd and abstract in and of itself, but we still only got 3 scenes onto the written page. And those scenes will each last 45 seconds or less. Still, it was great work. And even though it took hours, we were really, really happy with what we had accomplished when we were done working for the day.

(And then Peitor texted later in the evening, to say that we needed a shot of “the desk against the wall once we hear the keys in the door” and, once I thought about it, I saw that he was completely correct. I know that we probably seem insane, but this movie is going to be so fucking cool. Totally absurd and abstract and even a little erotic and disturbing and also quite lovely to look at!)

(And our micro-micro-micro shorts are going to be completely awesome, gang. Every time I think about them, I can’t help but chuckle out loud. We are planning to shoot 2 of those this year. I don’t think we’ll be shooting the “Lita” script this year, or, if we do, it will be very, very late in the year– yes (!!), probably when The Guide To Being Fabulous is premiering in Toronto. Because we refuse to even consider beginning shooting “Lita” until I get that specific A-list actor that I want for the key role. I’m so absolutely serious about that, gang.)

Well, we are planning to have the Abstract-Absurdity web site launched on April 1st, and a couple of the micro-shorts will be streaming there. So, I’ve gotta  lot of work to do there. But I will, no doubt, keep you posted.

Today, I am either going to work some more on In the Shadow of Narcissa — OR — write something Thug Luckless-related! Yes, gang, he’s pushing against the insides of my brain, trying to get onto the paper, too! So we’ll see.

And I spoke at length with Sandra yesterday — she’s up in Canada, now. And, based on her rehearsal schedule up there,  it sounds like the table-reads for Tell My Bones will begin in NYC in March. Shit. So — yeah. I gotta get my mind around that. March is, like, 14 seconds away. Thank god I don’t have to cast that thing. All I have to do is show up.

(And — NO! — even though it is super-duper incredibly easy to get to Copenhagen from JFK, I am not going to try to fit in a micro-short trip to Copenhagen to see the Nick Cave art exhibit! It is not going to happen, because it will only complicate my schedule, my work, my bank account, my life — so it ain’t happening. I’m not even going to think about it, or so much as ponder the logistics of it. And all the airline-booking-deal-alerts that pop onto my computer to tell me what flight deals might be lurking in the direction of Copenhagen will simply be ignored!!)

Yep. Absolutely.

And on that note!!! I’m gonna get started here, gang!! Have a wonderful, wonder-filled Saturday, wherever you are in the world!! Thanks for visiting, gang. I’m not gonna leave you with “Joe” today, even though it is an intense little song — it’s a bit too jaded and acerbic for my tastes here this morning. But I will leave you with something else from The Last DJ (such a great album, gang): “Have Love, Will Travel.” So fucking beautiful. All righty! I love you guys. See ya!

“Have Love, Will Travel”

You never had a chance, did you baby
So good-looking, so insecure
And now you say you can’t remember
When the lines you drew began to blur

Yeah, when all of this is over
Should I lose you in the smoke
I want you to know you were the one

And may my love travel with you everywhere
Yeah, may my love travel with you always

Maggie’s still trying to rope a tornado
Joe’s in the backyard trying to keep things simple
And the lonely DJ’s diggin’ a ditch
Trying to keep the flames from the temple

Oh, and if perhaps I lose you
In the smoke down the road
I want you to know you were the one

And may my love travel with you everywhere
Yeah, may my love travel with you always

How about a cheer for all those bad girls
And all the boys that play that rock and roll
They love it like you love Jesus
It does the same thing to their souls

And when all of this is over
Should I lose you in the smoke
I want you to know that it’s all right

And may my love travel with you everywhere
Yeah, may my love travel with you always

c- 2002 Tom Petty