Whoops

So I think I am not allowed to go to literary readings anymore! I went to this one last Friday and it was at a bar and Elegant Choice was late picking me up and by the time he got there I was smoking a total stranger's cigar and making friends with a ripped male terror who kept telling me, "I saw your wide eyes and I knew you was a German!" I have no idea. Also I tried to force Keith Lee Morris to draw a picture of a dog wearing an army hat in my book but he demurred and signed it, Imagine these words are a drawing of a dog, which nearly killed me with deepness, and then later he took down the hugest most intricate pile of nachos I've ever seen in my life. Respect. Then I collaborated on a drunken napkin with a fine fellow who shared my love for David Foster Wallace and cardigans. I drew my specialty: Explicit Pig with a Snout Where a Snout Should Not Be, and he drew a sheep dressed as Michael Jackson, which might have sparked a debate on the nature of clothes and whether sheep could be said to wear sweaters. "Must a sweater be separate from the self in order to be a sweater?" I screamed, and then scrawled this incoherent legend on the napkin: THE IMPORTANT THING IZ THA WOOL. I woke up the next morning smelling like a creepy uncle, probably because of my bad cigar decision. Do not ever smoke one! I inhaled just the tiniest bit and instantly burst into tears, partly with sadness for my lost innocence, partly because it had poisoned me.