09-13-2021, 07:11 AM
Can I order it? And hold it in my hands, and smell it before I put it into my oldtimey cd player and give it a spin? And check out the album artwork? And if there're any chicks in the band, or any chicks who did the art: are they any addresses, like so how when we were in middle school we were given the assignment to write a letter to a famous person?
The most of the class wrote to Bill Cosby. I wrote to Anne Frank; but then my teacher took me aside one morning after class and explained things to me. I have learning disabilities, you see. So, I ended up writing to Bobcat Goldthwait.
When I was in New York city, in 2008, I was sleeping some nights in an apartment in Brooklyn, in the bottom of a bunkbed of a girl I was close friends with, at the time.
Often I'd stay at a certain diner all night, at the Marx Brothers table, and drink tea. I ordered tea, and had free refills, and sat there all night most nights.
I was busy writing poems and letters to the actress, Emily Browning. I'd gotten her address in Australia from a dubious source, and was putting my faith in the profundity of my writings.
I always kept a copy of Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet on the table when I had to get up and go to the restroom, so the waiters would figure I was one of those kinda guys, and not suspect anything else.
When I got back to Virginia a few months later, I found out that Miss Browning happened to have been in New York the whole time I was there.
I recall seeing a girl who favored her while on Seventh Avenue one day around lunchtime, but she wouldn't make eye contact with me, so I went along my way.
When I got back here, and realized she had been there the whole time,
I slapped my forehead in the Jewish manner.
Bunx, feel free to tell me I should've shat up three hours ago, or complain about me to the local authorities.
I just can't resist, when a story clouds up in me and needs to precipitate.
The most of the class wrote to Bill Cosby. I wrote to Anne Frank; but then my teacher took me aside one morning after class and explained things to me. I have learning disabilities, you see. So, I ended up writing to Bobcat Goldthwait.
When I was in New York city, in 2008, I was sleeping some nights in an apartment in Brooklyn, in the bottom of a bunkbed of a girl I was close friends with, at the time.
Often I'd stay at a certain diner all night, at the Marx Brothers table, and drink tea. I ordered tea, and had free refills, and sat there all night most nights.
I was busy writing poems and letters to the actress, Emily Browning. I'd gotten her address in Australia from a dubious source, and was putting my faith in the profundity of my writings.
I always kept a copy of Rilke's Letters to a Young Poet on the table when I had to get up and go to the restroom, so the waiters would figure I was one of those kinda guys, and not suspect anything else.
When I got back to Virginia a few months later, I found out that Miss Browning happened to have been in New York the whole time I was there.
I recall seeing a girl who favored her while on Seventh Avenue one day around lunchtime, but she wouldn't make eye contact with me, so I went along my way.
When I got back here, and realized she had been there the whole time,
I slapped my forehead in the Jewish manner.
Bunx, feel free to tell me I should've shat up three hours ago, or complain about me to the local authorities.
I just can't resist, when a story clouds up in me and needs to precipitate.