so i lost a burberry and a moleskine and archy and mehitabel and got picked out the gutter by grace jones.
what do jim carroll and sam willetts have in common? i guess thursday was a real moment, a melting i suppose, water bursting through the bottom of the old proverbial bucket. well when ella was running for the taxi, the whisky fell straight through the bottom of the carrier bag. it smashed. i guess that was too much for me. what do notting hill, brixton, and that straight chick emma’s room have in common? i cried you know.
this really is the saddest story.
lol.
i guess i’m a thief. indeed that day i stole five pounds and a new bottle opener from charity. the week before i’d found two old chairs. i guess i just want relationships for free. i guess i’m still looking.
lol.
i kind of wonder though how people go about stealing jackets from clubs. its january, so they must already have one. so do they just walk out the club with another one slung over their arm? and just hail a taxi, or worse, get on the bus? there must be a law about that. you never get relationships for free
i also wonder what that guy must have thought when he looked through the notebook. its a shame, because i’ve had it for a month and i’d written so much in it, but i guess the first real thing i would have had to write in it would have been this. its funny that. would have looked lovely in that black ink.
this really is the saddest story.
lol.
i don’t know what more to say, if i should even bother saying any more. i don’t think i’ve really said anything at all yet. and bloody kwaku picked me off the side of the pavement. what a gentleman. the gay grace jones. and i couldn’t stop crying about how the poem had been lost. lord oh lord.
lol.
so what do jim carroll, sam willetts and don marquis have in common? they’ve all been lost i guess. although i feel kind of guilty about the last one.
lol.