...slung-lo...

The tile on the walls of the station had a chip in it shaped like a moth in flight - I wanted to be on its back, soaring.

This day has been nearly as bad as it gets. So much frustrations filling me to bursting, sitting on the train crying. Even the schizophrenic across the way was staring at me with bemusement. Entertaining the crazies - good for something at least.

I want this song-writing fool to be my body-musician.

I lack the escapist fantasies I'm dying for. I might find it at a drag show tonight, but if I can't get there I'll make myself a cocktail - the prescription kind to be sure, less calories that way but it'll do what it does - and read some Foer, laugh to happy instead.