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Congratulations,we are all so very happy for you, your new place will be a paradise on earth, a vast an expansive cornucopia of fun and excitement, a veritable dirigible of good times, fine wine, cheap and sexy man-boys, drugs, rock n roll, hot tubs, sex with men named Gunner, turntables, throw pillows, ruck-a-muck, the number three, screaming guitars, a small hedgehog of the spiny mammal variety, a recipe for duck de la cher, two midgets, ice cream, a young woman standing on a corner, she is wearing a plaid skirt to just below the knee, boots to just above the knee, a white man's dress shirt and a red serge overcoat cut tastefully at the hips and shoulders to resemble supermodels of the Jerry Hall era, her long straight blonde hair playfully tossed about in the wind that whisks around the corner, at 113th and Blossom, known by many students of meteorology for the way the tannin in the asphalt bakes the street up to seven degrees hotter than surrounding streets, making for an updraft which Hugh Rumpolt, late of the Italian Institute for Aerodynamic studies, described as "the kind of gentle wafting made real by an accidental mismixture of street ingredients which heretofore only existed in the minds of poets and the hopelessly insane, not insane enough to require incarceration, no no, that would be too facile as the French say (those fucking French!), no, the kind of dangerous, seething, under-the-skin, reduced libido, fascination with bowling, torches, waterpipes, a nice fouton, maybe a potted plant by the window, a small fish in a bowl, a poster of Vince Vaugh, phone calls at 10:33 in the evening on a Friday and you're not home so your answering machine has to pick up and the tape goes on and on about fish sticks and people who don't exist and crying into your beer when you know damn good and well the motherfucker doesn't drink, well, there was the one time, in Sri Lanka, a lovely place Sri Lanka, not quite a Kuala Lampur but neither a Coos Bay, that was some foul whiskey though, and he did pay for the potted plant, the glasses, a matching set, purchased at the dollar store (for two dollars, go figure) as well as the crack in the front door window where a draft whistles on cold and lonely nights when a fire would be nice and a novel would be better but a fucking crazy e-mail from across the country will have to do, that kind of insane."
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