I can't say I've had great fun galavanting around like a half-wit recently. My wife brought me up a tall glass of vodka and some Tylenol earlier--I didn't even know we had Vodka in the house. She's not alarmed, but just concerned about me. I am sickened by what's happening to me, and the people who seem to think they know all about what my intentions are. I've never been so liberated, untethered, unattached. At the same time, though, the freedom I have to enjoin the personalities of the world doesn't come without its pain.
For example, the other night I was at a downtown strip club and acted out like a lunatic. Barfights, private dances (not as fun as I imagined), outlandish behavior and the like. But my new pals loved it, and I left feeling as if I would let them down if I didn't return the next evening with the same gusto. I didn't have it the next night. Or the next. What happens to me when I --
Ok, I'm back. I had to excuse myself there for a moment. Sometimes it's all too easy to let the words flow. Words are like children if you don't harness, control, and discipline them. Time to get dressed and ready for the evening. Heels, wig, some shaving, and I'm ready for the sins of the night.