Day ONE:
This stuff looks like carbonated piss and it's three bucks a can. Who would willingly drink this? I don't know what Taurine is, but a friend of mine once told me it's extracted from bull testicles. That probably isn't true, but still this stuff is lousy with it, and that has me worried. Of course you don't actually get wings like the all-too-literal commercials, but I don't want little bull-babies either. I'm going to take my first sip now.

Wow, this stuff tastes like carbonated piss. And, like, from a guy who eats way too much grapefruit. Yuck. I don't feel any different after one can. I can't think of anything really. It's in my brain already. Nah, just kidding. This is boring. I kind of want to eat something—anything—to get this taste out of my mouth but I can't. I have to only drink Red Bull for a week. Why? Because someone has to. I guess.

Day TWO:
I slept maybe one hour last night. I was still in my clothes. And driving. I had bright red nightmares. I woke up in Bridgeport, Connecticut. I think I got in a fight. My hands are bleeding. It feels like my muscles are running on sawdust, but running they are.

Sometimes I can't find my heartbeat, but when I can it's like it's punching me back. Did I mention I'm punching myself in the chest? Every two minutes. I believe it's some kind of aggravated nervous tic. I feel energized. My tongue is coated and yellow, and every one of my teeth feels like it's dancing. It sounds like I broke my ankle somewhere but I can't feel it. I'm invincible. I God.

Wait, no. My feet are just wading in Red Bull cans. Crushed ones. Some are twisted and I think I tried to eat one. I'm so hungry…

I just remembered I don't own a car.

The car is gone, man. I threw it away. Literally, threw it. Into a tree. OK, that's a lie, but is anything really a lie, you know? I mean, on different planes of reality all lies become forms of truth just like all thoughts are actually manifest in the distant outstretches of the universe.

And I realize that Red Bull never actually tasted bad bad bad, but rather is the only true thing of Taste. It is Taste. I know this. It's like what does your tongue taste like? You know what some other people's tongues taste like—I made out with a raccoon this morning—but what does my tongue taste like? Sister Forest didn't tell me.

Red Bull is the nectar of the gods, OK? Or it was or it will be because time is cylindrical, you see. I have shared a bed with Hermes, but I don't sleep anymore and I only drink Red Bull. My urine is carbonated and I drink that too. My penis is now the perfect size to fit into a can of Red Bull. Perfect Size. Cylindrical. Cylllllindricalllll.

Last night I was constructing a suit of armor out of used spent exhausted cans of REDBULL. my virtue-goodlabor protected me from the darkness. now it can be said that I myself am a can of REDBULL. drink me. that I am filled with its golden wisdom. drink me. there are battles to be fought, many and moony battles. drink me. I must separate the mighty from the willing. I found people in a township today and then I drank more REDBULL. theirs was all the sweeter for it was stolen. rescued. I suffered many cuts and bruises on and indeed from my armor-metallic and I invited a starving babe to drink of my blood for it is REDBULL. milk of the breast of the true earthmother. the mother makes a screaming sound which echoes in my metal body. there was conflict and now I am with gun. I possess the strength to tear the meager hand of a pensioner like a phone book. I know this now. so much to know, so much to do. drink me.

Day 5IVE:
Someone need s to tell me my name .. I have transcend ed my name u see.. There are other name s to know now how ever .. The CREST .. on the can of redbull that is all can s of redbull .. The LEFT bull is name d Evrecius and the RIGHT bull is name d kevalT ..

kevalT spoke to me last night .. Dont remember where I was .. Out side.. fIRe .. kevalT say s I am the YelloW CirclE with in The CREST ..

YelloW CirclE walk ed to where the edge of reality turn s .. there are ferocious ochre snake s and lizard s swimm ing in my eye s but I am YelloW CirclE and I alone wield the strengthpower of the RREEDDBBUULLLL .. I speak its-his name and kevalT is my RIGHT hand with which I will smite the un believer s .. Evrecius farm s the ash es .. plants of BLOOD .. YelloW BBLLOOOODD ..


I rise up in a pasture somewhere outside Baltimore. Baltimore, Ireland. When I open my eyes it hurts, but it hurts again to close them. I'm wearing trousers made of leather. I think I made them myself. There's still blood on them. Some is mine. My mouth feels like I tried to eat the Kool-Aid Man. I have no stomach lining left. They eat tripe here…

I never got my wings. I'm being sarcastic now. It feels like there's something on my back, though. Maybe I do have some kind of wings. Nope. I just asked a guy in a truck, and apparently I have a tattoo of a big yellow circle on my back. Great. I can't be buried in a Jewish cemetery now. For this.

I'm going to go find some Guinness and probably die from shock, but hey, it's over! That's pretty neat. It's pretty great. It's a goddamn festival.

Hey, I can drop a six-foot loogie!

(Illustration by Max Kelly)