there is no sailing but into marmalade
in a time of marmalade.
—Gerrit Lansing
Is it Thursday or Friday? Is it the weekend?
I dunno. Lots of talking. Thank goodness.
Sort of.
And here (interested in spending weekend,
Napa, Russia mebbe) and that.
Somewhere on Saturday night,
emailing all the time, a friend, SFMOMA.
Not the answer. I lost.
Blue jeans, emotional. “Constantly running up
explosive personal debts” (Paul Hannigan).
All I can say on that right now. Guy still works.
Which if you ask some people is part of a problem.
Then Mel’s. He knows more than most. For
certain. Cute, huh? Or “You would not
want to meet a nicer woman.”
Sort of. A heart bigger than a sleeve of advert-
isement. Sympathy notes? That’s not the
answer.
I kinda wanna be celibate but who knows?
It’s too chilly to sit on this parkbench.
