Plastic Bubble For Kicks
i would like people to start calling me Vicar. I think it suits me.
I have been calling other people Chopper lately. I think it suits them.
There's a man outside on Market St. selling lighted yo-yos. He is selling them via a movable cart, which also includes a small radio from which he is blasting Willie Nelson tunes and other familiar favorites. He is a fine man.
I was told by one homeless man, who sits next to a sign that says "homeless? my ass! I just wanna get high!" (which, by the way, I don't think is a good sign to have even if it is true, especially now during the holidays), that I was going for the "Andy Warhol look." Hmmmm, while my hair is certainly blond and it's a bit longer than usual, mainly due to my inability to actually make it to a barber of late, i don't think it looks much like Andy Warhol. But then again, he could have said something much worse, like "you look like barbara striesand" or "you remind me of jim nabors." see, life is good.
gotta go finish my resume for shit.
more commentating later. back to life, back to reality, back to the here and now.
eat soiled crabcakes
love yourself first! love Don Johnson later.