I am a religious man at heart.
And I cannot live life any way other than religiously.
All my life has been a religious experience.
Oh God and broken arrows.
It has been seven days since I’ve smoked dope– fourteen days since I’ve tripped and twenty-four days since I’ve smoked tobacco.
And I’ve been drunk almost every day since last Sunday.
Tonight I met John, editor of Family Magazine, in Dupont Circle with an absolutely gorgeous black chick and I told him of my latest endeavors in the world of pornography. It was a great conversation. I invited him to my party. It occurs to me that in the last few days I’ve invited a rather large number of people to some tentative party that is nothing more than an invitation so far. I do think I would like to have a fantastic party for Mary when she comes– which will be about the third week into May.
The point of the entire last few thousand words was to say that John, editor of Family Magzine, informed me that my cover of Family had won second place in a national competition for something or other. I think it was in some sort of competition for weekly gravure supplements– some kind of shit.
Fuck– what I’m trying to wade through the horse shit is to say that the cover which I appeared won second place.
Aren’t I clever?
I’ll tell you something, honey… the main ingredient that those numbers in Georgetown have that makes them exactly what they are is a firm, unalterable, belief in their own beauty and cleverness.