(sigh) I had just composed an insightful piece about my need to go back and give all my forgotten creative personalities a jolt. I love to write (hence this operation), I love to sing (and run a piano bar, go figure) and I love to compose really crappy poetry. Scroll down for an example. Anyway it was all rather witty and was predicated on my night out at this queer poetry/spoken word extravaganza that I loved, loved, loved! seeing at the Bowery Poetry Club. While I was writing my computer madly started asking for multiple permission access requests (as in filthy whore has a virus?) which was totally fucking with my concentration so I disabled the feature and my computer signed itself off but let me happily type away pithy commentary until I tried to post it and of course, not signed in, cannot find server, all info apparently lost into internet ether. And coincidentally at the same time Blogger was apparently getting it's dick sucked and was not available anyway. So maybe I'll try and recreate it tomorrow but I rarely go back to the well but you never know. But I did need to say this: Just when I decide I want to start to live again (again), I'm told there's a chance I could die (hellooooooo irony. So nice of you to dress!)
Next time: (If there's time) pictures from Neo's tea
