Thursday, May 19, 2005


express lane.

*item: when i see a famous person in new york, chances are two in four that it is parker posey. and this time, like my mother, i recognized her dog first.

me: oh, that dog loves me.


me, whispering: parkerposey.

monkey: what?

me: that's parker posey.

monkey: you always think you see parker posey. that woman's butt is too big to be parker posey.

guy walking by her on the street: oh, hey! parker!

*item: the best one makes me laugh so hard.

her: . . . so, it's about time. i've got to get off the pot.

me: or, you know. shit.

her: right. but the point is, i can't just keep sitting on the pot.

me: but isn't shitting the preferred outcome?

her: i think they're equal.

me: but the whole reason you got on the pot was to shit, right?

her: . . .

*item: i met a crazy old guy in the lobby of my shrink's building and i was nice for once in my life and then it turned out he's an agent and wants me to come by later so we can talk about him representing me. chances that this man is a nutjob are high, but . . . you know. yay.

*item: the show went okay, despite the fact that i couldn't interact with the audience because i was blinded by the first electric and could see only a hazy screen of amber stage light. a guy may want to publish part of it in a trade paper as a first person essay. the producer didn't show, but lots of people said nice things and i have a date to do it again in september.

*item: amsterdam. see you not next week, but the week after.


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