2002-10-22 - 10:54 a.m.
Last night David Bowie sang into my mouth. I formed an 'O' with my lips and didn't exhale for the entire song. My body shook as his breath formed the word "Ziggy" inches away from my face. This Ziggy air darted straight down my throat and into my intestines. The “Z” tickled my artery walls as Ziggy entered my bloodstream. By the time he jived us that we were voodoo, I didn’t need to breathe oxygen anymore, only glitter. Sure, by the end, the kids killed the man, breaking up the band, but that wasn’t the end of ol’ Ziggy. He’s inside here, somewhere, I’m pretty sure. I checked my hair roots in the mirror and they’ve turned orange. The pads of my feet are thickening and trasforming into platforms. Ziggy’s sucked up into my mind.
