I Couldn't Have Maked It A Week.

Stop me if you've heard this one:

A guy pulls up in a bad ass AMG CL class to the pump catty corner to mine and says, "Man, it sure is expensive these days!" And then I tell him my tale of woe about how I used to drive a Jag but then my old man got laid off from the mill and we couldn't afford premium no more; nor their headlamps. Okay, that last bit was just an afterthought but you can understand my incredulity at the first part. Clean living is just the slowest way to die.

Now I have a healthy vocabulary and a damaging imagination, and, while I would never claim to be an authority on such things, the only way I can describe what I just felt with you is: religious. Just the kind of revival I so very badly needed, sans tent, pulpit and flop sweat.

But I think I did come close to fainting like they do; saying "yes" to that bright light and to the joy in being understood and to wrapping myself up in the transcendent comfort of the flush of your millennial warmth. And I am really fucking thankful to myself for not ever chemically altering the sensitivity of my dopaminergic parts. Were it that I could do those things for you. We could really set sail.

love,

your anal superstar