In and Out

Do you remember that amusing ride called the Sizzler? Well that's what things have been like lately. Weaving in and out of days and nights in a sparkled car with 50's influenced tail lights. Running head on into a tragic situation only to veer off to the side at the last second. So fast I can't keep up with it, and I feel like I am failing all my gentle readers. There's just too much to tell, and no time to share it.

Heavy crushes on rock goddesses with electric bolt earrings and stiletto heels. Dreams of frenching. Frenching in the back of the club, frenching on first avenue. Caressing criss cross nylon covered legs. Eating roast beef dinners, drinking wine in the theatre and watching a 35 foot James Dean and Natalie Wood look longingly into the crowd and wonder what love is. Drinking whiskey between double bills. Hanging out with rock stars. Stealing french horns. Free lunches, free dinners. Piling through art parties at the crack of dawn, fighting in the kitchen, rolling in the grass. Winning. Drinking crown royal, and longing for a family. Burning pictures, eating bagels, and fucking.

Please bare with me in this time of unrest.