Fish Wrapper: 2006.10.06
October 6, 2006[Name Redacted]:
I submit to your Bukowski wisdom. I confess: the filling dump is in my own heart. The madhouse: my own room.
But somewhere a little west of here, a brother toils to sounds of the eighties. He finds no solace in the breasts of coeds. There is no time. He wakes. He studies. He sleeps. No time to waste away a drink. No time.
Yet, he is the future. His hope is my own. For I, I have retired. And you in the east, I’m not sure what you do. But for him — he dreams the dreams of expense accounts and busty comrades. Affordable hookers at the very least.
Respekt,
Michael De Soto