
I MADE SURE MY BUSINESS PARTNER "IRONSIDE" MADE IT BACK TO HER ROOM SAFELY.

I LIKED THE BOUNCERS AT THE VIP PARTY. WE TALKED ABOUT MAX SCHMELING, THE GREAT GERMAN BOXER. HIS STORY ALWAYS SADDENS ME.

THE GERMAN BAND WAS QUITE GOOD. THEY REMINDED ME OF "THE EELS".

A BUNCH OF ACTORS WERE AT THE PARTY PROMOTING THEIR FILMS.

I TRIED TO HIDE BEHIND THE BARS. BUT THEY FOUND ME AND BASICALLY AUDITIONED FOR ME THEN AND THERE. IT'S FRUSTRATING TO BE AN ACTOR TRYING TO MAKE ANY CONTACT YOU CAN SO YOU CAN HOPEFULLY ACT AGAIN. I SYMPATHIZE. BUT, TRUST ME, IT'S REALLY FRUSTRATING TO CONSTANTLY BE PERFORMED TOO. "HEY, YOU'RE REALLY COOL. I'M NOT JUST SAYING THAT. I MEAN, I KNOW YOU'RE RELATED TO SOME REAL FAMOUS PEOPLE AND ALL. HEY, CAN I GIVE YOU MY HEADSHOT?" I'D RATHER GO FISHING.

AT THESE FESTIVAL VIP PARTIES I FEEL I HAVE MORE IN COMMON WITH THIS STUFFED FOX THAN ALL THE PEOPLE AROUND ME. THIS IS WHEN I TAKE TO THE STREETS.



I FELT LIKE I WAS HANGING WITH MY YOUNGER BROTHER. I TOLD HIM I HOPED HE WAS HAPPY AND DOING WELL, THEN MOVED ON.

I HEARD SOME HARSH YELLING. MY SOCIAL INVESTIGATOR INSTINCTS KICKED IN. I FOUND THE ENTRANCE TO THE YELLING. THERE WAS AN ODD LITTLE MAN HOLDING A LANTERN, BECKONING ME DOWN THE STAIRS. I WENT DOWN. THERE WERE SKINHEADS, DOPED UP AND ANGRY. ONE OF THEM IMMEDIATELY MOVED TOWARDS ME. I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO GET INTO ANOTHER BAR FIGHT. NOT AT ALL. THIS GUY STARTED TO CRY AND ASKED ME IN BROKEN ENGLISH IF I WAS A SHAMAN. IT MUST HAVE BEEN MY CLOTHES. I SAID NOT REALLY, BUT WHAT'S THE PROBLEM. HIS HEART HURT. HE WANTED TO BE GOOD. HE WANTED TO LOVE DEEPLY. HE WANTED TO LEARN SHAMAN WISDOM SO HE CAN CHANNEL THIS DEEP NEED OF HIS. I WAS VERY MOVED BY THIS. I TOLD HIM HE DIDN'T NEED A SHAMAN. HIS OWN GIANT HEART WOULD GUIDE HIM.
