Yeah, I’m done, I’m good to go

I think we’re all looking for the things we can’t put into words

Evidently, Harold’s taken up smoking.

Y’know, you try to bring a houseplant up right, teach them the difference between right and wrong, and still…

———-

With nods to Rianessa and Constellajen for their emails and the Pretty Cake Decorator for all this cake/dough talk. And HEI.

Have you ever wanted, say, a donut? Like really wanted a donut? And you eat everything sweet in the house but nuthin hits the spot cause, even if you ate a Fondant au Chocolat from Le Cirque, you didn’t get what you really wanted?

So then you get dressed, shlepp out into the cold and feel ridiculous because you’re a 35 year-old dude out in Manhattan at 3AM looking for a whole wheat donut.

And when you arrive and they hand over that whole wheat donut, it’s like you found Mecca. You down that bad boy, sigh, and think, Oh yeah, I’m done. I’m good to go.

That’s my answer to all of you that keep asking me what I’m looking for. Something that I know I want but can’t put inna words. I’m looking for the SING – the one of the 533 that fits into that something I can’t put inna words.

No sweet lie, keep hoping that the Pretty Cake Decorator, or Heartgirl, or the Blue Eyed Girl, or someone ends up being her.

And Yes, I’d give it all up, the womanizing, the late nights, the randomness, like quicksilver on crack cause that’s all justa placeholder for what I know what I really want. Nuthin else’ll do, you see.

Every single time, I’m hoping that I can say, Yeah, I’m done, I’m good to go.

Man, I’m hungry.

No wonder Harold’s taken to smoking.

Location: 11PM yest, on my couch, talking to Constellajen
Mood: optimistic
Music: She said to come claim what was mine So down I fell