Life's Vinegar. Chapter 585.
It bothers me that people who do not know me in person think that I make things up. It does not bother me too much. If you knew me in person you would know that I don’t really care. I am crying crocodile tears as I sip today’s bitter vinegar.
Strike up the band so that the fireflies can dance in the milky moonlight glistening.
It is a desultory foggy morning. Do not ask what time it is. It is the demimonde. If everyone is not their best self, they are themselves.
As I may have mentioned, I am working on a book. It is only tangentially related to these letters to you. It is going to be like the Tao of Pooh, only with me in it.
You, too, can be the star of your own show.
There are no cars on the streets. It is so foggy.
This fog is like when Leather and Punk Barbie and I drove back over the bridge from our trip to Chuck E. Cheese— What? You think I am done thinking about that magical day? Not by a long shot, sister, not by a long shot.
A review of subscribers suggests more women than men read these reports by your man-in-New Orleans. Can you blame them?
When we were on the bridge, everything was gray. We could have been traveling through time, which, of course, we were.
This morning is like that. I had to take my eyeglasses off to get here, so that I could see. I wear eyeglasses to see things far away. Safety first! It is a good thing there is nobody on the road.
I just got my Tarot cards read…