I was going to put up something about process -- I had been struggling with becoming aware of mine and have made some great breakthroughs recently -- but it's Friday on a holiday weekend, and also, unwittingly, a Rock Star Day.
My latest GQ came in yesterday and had the annual Fashion Rocks accompanying mini-zine. It's total fashion porn and the articles aren't for shit, but it's total fashion porn and I'm all 'bout it. That of course means there's the dedicated requisite snippet to the fashion/music deus comprehensi himself. (This time it focused on The Man Who Fell To Earth.) I read it this morning on the train and have been in Bowie mode ever since. Which reminds me that I need to start working on my Halloween costume.
And I just found out that we're getting off work early for Labor Day weekend. Rock Star Day continues! Maybe I'll head downtown and pick up a pair of skinny skinny jeans. 'Cause I'm 6'3", 140 lbs. and can pull that shit off like a motherfucker. Have a happy and safe holiday weekend, all!
Edit: Reread post. (That sentence was declarative, not imperative. [I did] reread post, not [you should] reread post. But maybe you should.) Isolated following passage: "Last year I defaulted to a last minute geisha. This year I'm at least gonna get Ziggy in some capacity. The plan is to head down to Chinatown and see if I can't recreate the white hot pants/kimono combo." Passage now proudly holds title for most ambiguously lurid collection of words on this blog. "Fran Drescher erotic stories" currently sulking in second place.