One Arm Out From Under the Porch, Waving a Tiny Piece of Paper With Some Words on It

Important enough for me to post and repost.

Cheri kicks my ass, if only I remember to go to her when I am feeling like crap.

Now, if only I could remember it:

Not special but occasionally lovable.
Not special but occasionally lovable.
Not special but occasionally lovable.
Not special but....

But -- gawd-dayum I'm so pissed at myself because I haven't written anything worth a damn in a while.

Shit.

And FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, I wish I had written this:

Mr. Hayes probably got forty bucks for publishing this, but who the hell cares? It's freakin' beautiful ("I now know "bolt" is to lock and "bolt" is to run away.") and it's in The New Yorker.

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.

In other words, good ole Ozymandias was saying, you better read this, commit it to memory, before the copyright police come along and make me take it down.

Right now, I am jonesing for grace.

Smarty-Pants Snark and A Couple of Flashbacks

I'm a little bit of a cranky-pants today.

UPDATE -- 10 minutes later. The day just got immeasurably better because "Heartbeat, It's a Lovebeat," by the DeFranco family, featuring Little Tony DeFranco, was just on CBS.  I had to get up and do arm digs, and you know what?  It made me feel better.  What do you mean you don't dance in your office?  I do it all the time.  (I'm just working my way up to doing cartwheels after hours down that long hallway that goes past the Heir Apparent's office. I will do it, too. That is, if I can still get my ass in the air to do a cartwheel at all.)

Makes me think of the Hudson Brothers, another faboo 70's group, who rocked the baddest feathered do's this side of Barry Gibb.

Why don't guys wear their collars out and proud like that anymore? I love those wings!  Trivia: the one in the middle is Kate Hudson's DAD!


Okay, this put a little oxygen into the day and I can go back to work now.