blessed are the easily amused

Thursday, May 06, 2004

Seis de Mayo

Here we are back at the beginning again. The fertile nothingness from which everything comes - a hangover. The real fuzzy kind. Wow. My hips hurt from trying to dance like the flamenco goddesses (damn Mennonite genes), my head swivels slowly on its stupid hung-over neck, and all I want is to sit in some anonymous, wood panelled dive and eat bacon.

Instead I sit at work and swivel my stupid head toward the sources of difficult questions. What are you doing on May 19th? Will you produce this show about old people this summer? Will you edit this thing? Jesus Christ, people. First, give me a minute to turn my head towards you. Now. What do you want again? Wait, have you got any bacon?

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