The intoxication of love wards off the questions like "am I where I need to be?" or "was that horse Jesus?" It's the don't-be-so-serious wing of this personality that demands playing vs. working, fun vs. sad and c'est la vie vs. worry. When something falls off me I'll go all Richard Lewis (<--- boy, was that ever prophetic?) but until then I am this and there's no one to keep saying "if he'd just knock off the joy boy stuff, he'd go far". I got here snapping bra straps and always ready to go "man walks into elevator and turns to woman already in there and says 'can I smell your feet?' and she says 'NO,. . . of course you can't' and he says 'must be your snatch then.'

Nothing like starting off with tho'ts of 5 years ago. It's easter, god's day and the vibe is all about resurrection of the self-clickspot. Everybody's playing on the weekend, some not aware that they're dying. Starting with a snatch joke exemplifies the B E S T example of being the only reader. When the dew is still on the roses, you better not be wah-wah-wahing.

All set for the week that follows, starts an hour earlier in anticipation of 'cuzzin' again. Staying positive. . so far . . . good