Props to All the David Nelsons
Dear dear, I haven't posted in a while. Sorry about that. I've been busy. I hope the beasts at supermundane.com and that site about Egon Schiele kept you busy.
This week I am moving out of this little apartment. I would like to look around the rooms and say "this place was good to me", but I can't help but think about the refrigerator that doesn't refrige very well, or the shower that produces less water than the kitchen faucet. This morning I found the local ant-brigade invading my sink again, and I told them "In a few days it will be all yours, chums." Then I doused their numbers with soapy water.
I was reading the other day about the silly airport security these days. Apparently the feds are giving anybody named David Nelson a hard time. I've had a few ideas for when I depart on my trip; I could go to a dollar store and stock up on tweezers and small scissors and hair pins and the like, and put them all in a bag. Then I can hand it to the security folk at the airport and tell them "by the way, my friends call me Dave Nelson." But maybe that would be too extreme. What I AM going to do, though, is pack some kind of toy gun, obvious in its fakeness, and see if they confiscate it. If they do, I'm going to take a picture of the guy taking it and ask him to "smile justly".
Anyhoo, I will get back to my cleaning and boxing. That's right; Holyfield's up next. Bring it on, bitch!
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