Through my fresco window, and through the frames of my horn-rimmed glasses, it looks overcast outside. Truly, I think to myself, enamored with my own pontification, while I am breathing, all things are overcast by my projected self. Chortles abound as I sip my cognac; I am in particularly high spirits, considering my recent acquisition of Frank Sinatras former estate. There was a note in his house that read, Whoever is living here presently, get em out. This place belongs to Tony. Here I sit, marveling at my newfound property, grateful of Franks posthumous generosity, inviting Richard Gere over to set him up with my good friend, Stephen King. I would say I am lucky, but it is not luck. It took backbreaking work...and undeniable charm. Nothing is impossible when your hair looks like a sunrise, and the curvature of your body tells people the story of their lives. Namaste :)
Posted on: Tue, 02 Dec 2014 19:41:48 +0000
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