I'm bringing this up because—oh I don't know. I was just thinking about old Double-G. Those sparkline eyes. Those snow-white teeth. Those—SHOULDERS.
It's all water under the bridge. We still see each other now and again—at the gym, at the Starbucks, whatevah. We smile. We nod politely. Sometimes we say hi. Hard to believe we were married, even if it was just for three weeks.
I read some poetry today, part of my "soul improvement" crash course. I don't remember the name of the poet. Some of the stuff was pretty ace, a line about how the "leaves in the alley/move around like mice" when stirred up by the wind.
But then of course I started thinking about MICE and then started hearing things, probably mice, creeping around behind the radiator and whatnot.
I need a personal assistant (to handle my business-related stuff) and a personal servant (cleaning, cooking, driving).
Won't someone put me in a movie? I think maybe I could star in a crime serial—that would be good. I could be the detective or the evil genius. It really would hardly matter.
Put me in, coach, as John Foggerty (sp?) sang.
I'm ready to play.
Also yesterday, and tomorrow.