Dribble

C.C. told me yesterday that he is getting paid to write.  Pretty good money, he says.  Shit, I said, I write every day and nobody pays me anything.  You're an artist, he said.  I'm a whore.  I'm not attractive enough to be a whore, then, I said.  I'm just a slut.  No money, but all the sleaze.

Today's photo doesn't look like much, I know, but you have to look closely.  Nobody in the photo is looking at me except the blind guy.

And that is all there is to that.

As is true of this post.  I could tell you what I ate yesterday or that I exercised or some other mundane details, but I don't have it in me.

Dribble,
              dribble,
                           dribble.