on and on and on...
in the middle of writing 3 poems. all of which i detest.
it is 5 in the morning and the sun is rising and i can't help but think about mikes diner.
i want french toast.
and a coffee. and a kiss.
but not in that order. i am booking shows like mad for the summer, because the worst thing about being a full-time artist is: when the summer comes, the school funding is DRY! besides, i don't particularly want to be in NYC all summer. it gets too hot. i like to go and come. so i can visit fort greene park for sunday jams. and sit with friends with jamba juice and jokes. my daughter always goes to california so she can experience life outside the city. this is important. i've had it all my life and wouldnt dare deny her that. i mean -- i already moved her 2000 miles away from our cali roots. the least i can give her is a summer of bike riding in the street, swimming pools in the back of yards that line the cul de sac and cousins galore.
but until then. here i am. searching myspace pages for inspiration. watching HBO on demand for inspiration. listening to the keys click away my inspiration. this must be a joke. give me a topic to write about... i'm afraid i'm dry at the moment. unless of course i write about what i see in brooklyn. and who really wants to do that, again?
i have projects waiting to happen - and a bum that hurts from sitting too long. i am still thinking of french toast. maybe i can go to the bodega and get some pancake stuff so i can make it now.
even though, mike's diner opens in 20 minutes. and i'm only a 10 minute drive away...
i have to get ready for Ohio. I've officially run outta books!
a new order must be made. until then -- sheroshima for sale.
yea. that's a plan.