Cavortings!

Saturday 6:40 p.m.
Brian Wilson should be here within the hour, the pig's face hanging from his nether lip half chewed, a fag up each nostril. You just know he can't wait for that time in the bar when he takes out his false teeth and puts his bottom lip over his nose. Always a show stopper.

Tomorrow I might have to crawl over to the hospital and pretend to be a train wreck. Bye bye the higher meditative states!

Act 2 of the book called Love Me Tender, Love Me Sweet (The Story of a Forbidden Love) starts on a night like this. Our hero, the intrepid school librarian is stumblebumming about somewhere in the beautiful, wonderful city when he comes upon the schooolgirl, who is having a fag on the pavement outside a club, half falling out of a cocktail dress and tottering about on high heels. Of course, in the book I'm a younger, more successful writer with a motor car. Got to have a motor car. Vital for the plot.

So the babes is standing shivering on the pavement when she sees our intrepid hero,laughs and says .... well, what does she say, Jack? Hold me. You've got the job, Jack.


Spent all afternoon in the lobby. The bliss has once more moved on. The bliss doesn't give a shit about the disease.