Tonight's Public Reading of Mary turned my already sour belly as it was a redundant soapbox in a black box theater accusing Christians of being gay hating, stupid racist bigots. Yawn.
The highlight of the morning was burning off my McSorely's dark ale head pain on a Tompkins Square Park bench next to the Rasta in his underwear and eavesdropping on two New York Times reporters discussing their $200 articles.
I've been poisoning myself with notions and potions in order to gain headway on the life I think I'd like to look in on. It's not working.
Time for a detox diet from all assumptions, expectations, and crazy little abandoned girl antics.
This includes booze, Bill O'Reilly, and being a dutiful wife.
--If you laugh at different comics, If you root for different teams,
Waste no time, weep no more, Show him what the door is for.
Rub him out of the roll call
And drum him out of your dreams.--
South Pacific
Got hair that needs a washing?
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