Friday, August 13, 2004
It’s like a summer cold, only worse. Dear friends, the existentialism virus is back, and I am really not well as a result. The details are not important. I’d rather not waste your time on the gory details when there are better, happier, more interesting stories to be told. They’re out there somewhere. I just don’t have them tonight. I hope I’ll have them soon. In the meantime, thank you all for being such patient souls.
You make an excellent argument, Michael. Add the Bolshoi Ballet and we do indeed have reasons to be cheerful, one, two, three. 
And I am cheerfuller, and thank you for that.
I would love to blame the existentialism on just some sort of woman kind of thing, but—not to give you tmi—it’s not really time for that sort of woman kind of thing. Maybe I have the other sort of woman kind of thing. You know, the *other* one. (laughs nervously, wonders where the damn calendar is, remembers that it’s still too early for that, too)
A defunct governor trifecta! Wouldn’t that be something to see? Unfortunately, unless Mr. Pataki is outed as the Baby-Eating Bishop of Bath & Wells, I don’t see it happening. Ah, well.
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You make an excellent argument, Michael. Add the Bolshoi Ballet and we do indeed have reasons to be cheerful, one, two, three.
And I am cheerfuller, and thank you for that.
I would love to blame the existentialism on just some sort of woman kind of thing, but—not to give you tmi—it’s not really time for that sort of woman kind of thing. Maybe I have the other sort of woman kind of thing. You know, the *other* one. (laughs nervously, wonders where the damn calendar is, remembers that it’s still too early for that, too)
A defunct governor trifecta! Wouldn’t that be something to see? Unfortunately, unless Mr. Pataki is outed as the Baby-Eating Bishop of Bath & Wells, I don’t see it happening. Ah, well.