Well, how weird can your life be, sweetie?
I am at home, smoking roaches with a sterling silver roach clip and getting ready to work on my story after having deviated from my work plan long enough to write my lover a letter claiming true adoration and the phone rings. It’s the mayor. I talk to him for a minute and the upshot is he is coming over here and bringing that writer guy, David Lewis, along for good measure. I have burned a little incense. I have sprayed some Lysol and aired out the place as best I can and changed my clothes into a better set of working clothes: orange tank top, purple sweater, green hospital pants, pink socks, black Chinese shoes and my gambler earrings. It is so bizarre to consider my life sometimes. I can’t imagine the mayor coming to call on the wild girl. It will be an adventure. I occurred to me that I don’t have to clean up my act to impress the mayor or anybody else.