I am considering a career in rap:

"Girlfren say she wanna do the nasty
Acuzz it is so fan-tas-tee
Her Jamaican dude, he be a Rasty
Fuck her so hard she need angioplasty"

No? OK then. Let's return:

What should I read tonight? The choices seem to be WHY CAN'T WE BE GOOD by Jacon Needleman and RIDE EM COWGIRL: SEX POSITION SECRETS FOR BETTER BUCKING by Dr. Sadie Allison. Doesn't seem like much of a noviation, does it? Needleman should have done better at holding my attention with MONEY AND THE MEANING OF LIFE.

That? On the wall? That came out of me in a spray. Remind the cleaning lady about that next time you see her, won't you?

Here's a sweet new way to think about credit: you charge a $100 meal. The next day it comes out of your body in an alarming nuclear shit storm. Six months later you still haven't paid off the original balance. Is this an intelligent way to conduct yourself? You decide. I'm preoccupied.

Cinema students: why does Taylor Hsckford use that image of the shifting clouds in every goddam film? Eh? That's E-H, eh? It's most annoying in DOLORES CLAIBORNE, is it not? Or the one where Pacino plays Satan? We know this much: in the crush of history many women have remarked on the curvature of penis. Why does it sway to the right? To the left? (This was the conversation I had with Mamas in the screening of THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE that we attended. They show commercials for the commercials. Waddya think Leo Burnett is doing in his grave? Smoking a Marlboro?)

My only auspices are the auspices of doubt.