A hodgepodge of half ideas, because I'm too lazy for coherency or a complete thought.

I suppose the best lesson I've learned that it's ok for me to be a spite-filled misanthrope if I am good with words, because once I die I will be hailed as a genius and future English students will be forced to slave over my work. I can even suggest things like consuming the tender flesh of children and no one will bat an eyelash. I'm really looking forward to being a dead genius. I bet that will be the best part of my life.

It is assignments like this that make Liz one of my favourite people.
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Also, David Leavitt? Let's play a game. It's called the "Let's write a book and it's not going to suck" game. It's your turn. See, when a middle-aged gay guy writes a novel with a 40-something 1960s suburban housewife as the narrator, well, people laugh at him because the narration seems maladroit and skewed. I'm only 30 pages in, and I'm dead bored. This book better get better, tout suite.
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Remember how a few posts ago I wrote how letter writing is hot and sexy, and therefore everyone should drop me a line? Well, Nate did. Nate is a good guy; y'all should stop by.
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Leo (July 22-Aug. 22)
The stars once had a dog named Gianni DiMarco Antonio Batista. He was cute: a Shiatsu-Rastafarian mix with erratic dreadlocks, a charismatic underbite and, for the first few weeks of his stay, a large white plastic cone around his neck so he wouldn't lick his freshy neutered crotch. All the other dogs in the heavens made fun of Gianni for that cone. In fact, they abused him so much little Gianni developed a complex, walking around with his tail between his legs long after the cone was removed. With Venus in retrograde, you might be feeling a lot like little Gianni DiMarco Antonio Batista – irrationally insecure, harboring the psychological burden of childhood chunkiness or adolescent acne. The stars would like to take this opportunity to remind you that you are no longer wearing a cone and that starting on May 24th, all the dogs in the park will be in heat.

Does this mean that my haircut will magically become hot and trendy on Monday, and it will bring all the boys to the yard? Man, I hope so.