People always stop me on the street and ask, "Hey, is that your face or did your neck throw up?" But I ignore those people and continue imagining that all the.effing.librarian fans out there are cheering for me because I'm so wonderful, and then they raise me up onto their shoulders and carry me to a world filled with ice cream and jelly beans and Scotch and Jennifer Jason Leigh sexbots, but designed from the way she looked when she was in
Miami Blues. And then I wake up in a strange part of town handcuffed to a former Miss New Jersey who tells me "That was the bestest party ever!"
But really, what is in my head all day? Here is a picture of the door to my room when I was a teen. This is pretty much what goes on in my head 24/7. Lots of crap. Except I don't think about
Mercury Morris or
Nick Buoniconti or the
1972 Miami Dolphins any more. But everything else, yeah. I wish I could turn it off.
