A note to the kid pushing the stroller outside my local hippie coffee joint:
Before you got those triangle-shaped tattoos above and below your eyes–you know, the ones that make you look like a big, creepy drag clown–I hope someone besides your mother confirmed that you’re very good at something that (A) requires little contact with other human beings and (B) can earn you a decent living. It’s tricky to find a skill-set that satisfies both. I mean, masturbation fulfills A, but given your chubtastic frame, probably doesn’t cover B. Waiting tables at Galatoire’s totally handles B, but A? Not so much.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m all for radical self-expression, but dude, even novelists have been known to scrounge for gigs at Benetton from time to time….
sturtle [dot] com 