I love his gentle look of idiocy. The kind-of-Halloweeny clouds and tension of the past two evenings finally broke into rain sometime in the middle of the night. Ernesto will dump moisture all over the DC area this weekend, thus resigning me to my fate of working over the holiday. What we do for billables.
My dreams last night involved a cast of thousands. It was not unlike Andrei Belyi's "Petersburg," except it was set in NYC. A note to the cast:
* The state of the fried chicken is not a national tragedy.
* You really can't keep leading your friends in "the back way" into hotels so you can cry over the death scenes of long defunct rock stars.
* You can't ride a thoroughbred at breakneck speed through SoHo and not expect to get in trouble. You also can't just tie it to a lamppost in front of the Four-Faced Liar and expect that to be okay.
* You shouldn't abandon me to sit with Ma and Pa Redneck and their Bluegrass Brood just 'cause I don't want to sit backwards on the Amtrak train.
So there.
posted by Reen |link| 0 comments
