Monday, November 9, 2009

I'M WRITING A TEXT MESSAGE TO DADDI


I need a daddy. Or at least a client. After 40 I will have to work my ass off to even give it away. Now is my time. It is so gratifying and rewarding to be wanted for money. Not to mention the gratification of a job well done. They have a few hustler bars in the city. I heard Stella's was closed which is a pity. I'm ready. I have all sorts of white sneakers lined up a thin gold chain some Armani Exchange and a barber ready to give e a temple fade. Wish I still had the punched busted face - that sells. Incidentally, I went to a party Saturday and I don't have one mark bruise or disfigurement on my face. Without make up. I'm not human, they know that now. I should have waited a week. People don't need to see someone looking like Rocky Dennis on a Sunday and then fresh supple and glowing a few days later. I mean it's great that it is that way, but people were dumbfounded at the unearthliness of it. I don't have an oxygen chamber I SWEAR!


Usually overlooked Graffiti always comes through if you bump up the neon orange and green hues in pictures.




Cleaning out my wallet and some day bags.

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