kikka

Kikka, Kikka, I have been using the morning taking my time to copy more of your journals down, of the past 2 months. They are quite the reading materials.
I thought it was coffee no longer, but beer. The taste of horse stables, perhaps, instead of old shoe? And you get more of a rush with beer. But it's a downer, I know.
Not conducive to getting up and dancing to "Super Trouper". Lights are going to find me/ shining like the sun/ feeling like a number one. Not THE number one? No, just A number one. Very telling, that lyric.
Laundry is what I have to do, too. The sheets are becoming unspeakable...just normal funk. Like horse stables. They are not butyraceous or anything.

Your "occupation" is perfectly suited for my new one: circus freak. If I send you a plane ticket will you stroke my hair and feed me tea? You can have as many other friends and lovers on the side as you like--I'll just need you for about an hour a day.