All for me

"as you can see, in honor of your reaching the quarter century mark, all the subways and buses in new york city have stopped running. now that's power." _a.s.k.

yet more fame and glory. i'm waiting for the cartoon.

my party fucking rocked. my hair looked great, and i was juggling clementines by the end of the night. thanks to all those who came, cooked, spun, ate, drank, talked, danced, CLEANED. i know that i personally set off my fire alarm, temporarily locked myself and a handful of others into my bedroom, and watched two intoxicated boyz throw their drinks at my feet (next time try flowers).

someone who has more time than i do right now read about the white robed monks of st. benedict and give me the thumbs up/thumbs down.

Get ready

In typical dipshit-writer fashion, I don't have cowboy drag to wear to bbk mtn; I just have a nametag that says:

I'M ALWAYS WEARING COWBOY DRAG.

Tomorrow night is the fire boss' birthday observed. My personal deejay is champing at the bit, and I've got half a dozen people hoping to sleep on my floor. YES. My goal is not to bleed from my face. The fruit tart is in the fridge.

At work I am useless. The boss likes it when I hum. He needs gum surgery. I'm honestly considering adopting a dog, and who knows what will happen next? I want to write a story about going to see Measure for Measure, which was so good, and keeps the mocking of Christ returning to me mornings, lingering in bed.

Haiku: Ikkyu

I read one poem
And I think: what's stopping me?
Gaijin are easy.

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Sometimes their pent-up passions explode in ferocious roughhouse that is indistinguishable from fighting.