kevincasper.net

so green. big rivers and big trees and miles and miles and miles of parks and infinite bridges and big ole stone houses. big kev and katie got a huge ole stone house. when i say huge, it’s probably the biggest house i’ve ever been inside. six bedrooms? four bathrooms? the place has two sun porches that are probably each about the size of my house. they have a “carriage house” out back where the driver of the horse carriage used to sleep that, at an unkept 100 years old, is nicer than a few places i’ve lived (and bigger, too). i like the carriage house. the horses would stay down stairs, and the driver would stay in a room above. the old furnace is still there. there’s a little contraption for dolling out horse feed. very romantic. i imagine a lot of whoring going on out there. i’m ready to move in …

big kev’s place is a work in progress, but who wouldn’t want to save a hundred year old haunted castle if they could?

chin’s place is more of a big ole stone house rather than a huge ole stone house. three stories as well, but a bit less castle like. quite lovely and very cozy with great light and beautiful floors. i hope i’m here when we rip out the wall between the kitchen and dining room. i like demo …

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if eric schmitt was a beer …

‘ello guvna …

***this just in: michael jackson’s body to appear at memorial service. how rad would it be … stay with me here … ’bout an hour into the service, preacher’s working the crowd, really got ‘em in the palm of his hand, distraught fans sobbing hysterically, the whole disastrous scene in full effect. suddenly, through the p.a., the opening notes of ‘thriller’ echo through staple’s center. dancers materialize from all directions, rising from below the stage, descending from the ceiling, swinging in on ropes. stage lights up! cue the pyrotechnics! smoke pours into the arena … rising like a racial/gender/species ambiguous phoenix out of his diamond studded, solid gold casket … michael jackson (replete with the fedora, the white glove, the loafers, the whole scene). a flip of the hat. a tight spin into a leg kick punctuated with a crisp crotch grab. he descends from the casket and, with a buttery moonwalk that crosses the length of the dais, rips the microphone from the mystified preacher (holy shit, this snake oil fucking works!) and launches into the chorus as tens of thousands of witnesses erupt into a throbbing sea of unbridled celebration at heaven’s only all-night discotheque. talk about a comeback … ***

big kev’s place … katie scorned me for taking pictures of the house in ‘disarray’ … chicks.

(i don’t know what is up with the gallery, but you can see these pictures if you scroll through them. i guess it’s time to install some of these updates that keep popping up around here.)

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i like it here.

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