we live here but we're sightseers....

Saturday night.
Home alone.
No woman.
No liquor.
Just TV.
Pop music.
A guitar in need of new strings.
Some popcorn.

This is how my life really is.

I know...I know what you're thinking....."But, Fu-Fu, surely you jest. In your writings it's as if you live the glamorous life a Hollywood movie star, beating off starlets and ne'er-do-wells with a well worn cane made of gold and rubies. Your life seems to me as action-packed if not moreso than Don Johnson, or fuck...even John Oates."

Far from it, friend.

Far from it.

John Oates had his Hall.

Don Johnson had his Tubbs.

All I got is a persistent rash.

September 15, 2001 | 11:38 p.m.

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