Thursday, April 26, 2007

Pale Dry Ginger Ale, responsible midthirties stand-in for sex, drugs & rock 'n' roll, cure for what ails, pale dry substitute, ahh.

Pretty sleepy, should maybe go to sleep, hit a breakfast bar early, wonder if there's a local one with linguica.

Thinking about the detached slightly gauzy green fabric which hung like some harem drapery from the ceiling of my grandfather's sedan, how he came to visit us and watched soap operas all day, building pyramids with cigarette butts.

Getting old.

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