profound lack of both admirable qualities and shoes.
04.22.02 - 1:29 p.m. Today, I am quite at a loss. I have been too much thinking about might have beens, which is never a very good thing. It's akin to polishing the very rusty formerly-shiny armor that you can't even get your big comfy butt into anymore, and goin' downstairs to pat your big broken nag of a rosanante, and dream of the damsels you could have rescued. But that was in another country, and besides the wench is dead. I can only find one of my k-mart imitation birks, so I am going to wear zories on this hot, hot day. The cats are trying to drink my paintwater. I have been watercoloring for a need to Be Creative. More stories, more Poems. It's time to read the Rubyyiat of Omar Khayyim on the porch, on the back porch, where the buttercups and the wisteria and the blackberry bushes are blooming like mad. I have the most beautiful backyard I have ever had. More of everything. It's more. It's Prime Time! It's primely time to stop quoting popular movies like Jeffery, get out of my house, find some primary creativity. Secondhand is wearing thin. And call the SAT people. What a gas. I think I need new shoes. And a dentist. Not Steve Martin. time to go run psycho errands. I mean, of course, that the errands are for psychopaths. We bring them dinners and good housekeeping magazines and shit. Sometimes, they give us lifesavers and gummy bears in gratitude. No... hee hee... I just kid.
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