Monday, March 19, 2012

mdcxiv

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     You show me a tropical fruit and I’ll show you a cocksucker from Guatemala.

                                                                                              —George Carlin

So this is it?

On the way to the fireworks, somewhere between the barbecue and the coffee,
we pass a sign that gloats “Enjoy erotic aquatic adventures!” Everyone blurry
from broken glasses.

There’s music coming from the shower in a bathroom somewhere between
yoga and Diana. I’m just over here looking at pictures dead people took.
Of me. How to explain

it’s not the fame that I seek? How I got where I got (I am where I am)?
To simply (directly?) say something. To clean the bathroom, do another
penguin postcard for Kevin, purchase a tiny canvas for Otto (already

no secret). Up at 6:15am, job interview at 10:30am. How to be broke
and somehow ease out of financial services. Get quarters, pay bills,
be an industry.

4th of July. Nothing better to celebrate than a survey of George Carlin
on YouTube (extend all the way out to pre-bearded Carlin; even his
lopsided gay Native American gag a neuron-busting wonderment).

Walk to Ghirardelli Square with Otto & Erin to meet friends. Engage.
Meet more. Live long enough. Finish Bill’s tiny book, taking forever.
Even the fog refuses to make an appearance. Disappoint everyone by

leaving early—no need to stay for the fireworks. Life is good. If not 
downright awesome (amazing).

Awesome Online Cherries