Jewly thd. '95. Ok to start writing again but not the pencil, that a bad start but ah the tools of life that I don't carry around. This the place of the senior prom/gala with the wasted dates of forever in my Jessie D day. 'Ooops,sorry.' Ah, as in eh, at least she still had her senior. Oh well, the condoms gotten here too late for the prankish bathroom way. But the dancing and the beautiful Stella with date Laura? Either way the two wonderfuls hanging out and so the glance the much more efficient. And the sorryful Village Wok. Why was I with the Dan Miller the Heather Butler and Kat's on this supposedly wonderful night. But the strange Sara Vega ice cream social and the beautiful discovery of Mr. Coney Island. The title, the glory. And where was Yumeca on this night. I can't recall a thing for not a memorable night and now the sudden revelation of the memory-stolen, it's fading. So sad. Don't go.
But I must keep on rockin'.You know...Rock on completely. Did I have the cake that wonderful night? No and not even the drink. Oh, if only I had learned the beauty of 'Tsokay with Tokay' earlier and then the wonderful young ladies of my youth may have been able to be not so the wonderful. Ack.
And what now do I owe the honor of this warm embrace. The dogged sun beating my down down low brow. Man and now nothing the only random word irrelevant but sometimes funny, but tonight I think it not.
But the beauty of the 4th of July coming and the wonderful wonder of bombs and canons uniting all this ragged country's peoples into a beautiful raging throng. But what if it the not so good. Can't relive that gloried day of a quarter score (not even) ago. But at least not the quiet boy horror of last with the girl beautiful but strange not the same and the damned applause what is that rage there, huh? But if it good, it rock. Just get lost and in the crowd enough for the Mr. anonymous to come drivin' by and this the year of the drunk. Is there anything patriotic you can do on Mr. 4th? I suppose the beer is the most and also the sweaty no shirted work of small garages on the East Side. But don't buy a flag Eric, it so sad and low and nary a breeze to make it so. And then also the blandness of image of the giraffe and beautiful Madonna poster. Ah well. You can't remember and be thinking of this beautiful land all the time. You need a rest. You need you. And the beautiful pages of all late lonely nights.