On my birthday I go to an exhibition. Its themes are: death, separation, misery, gloom. Everything but fun. Perfect!
He’s too polite to say he thinks he’s more handsome than me, but he’s not too polite to think it.
We’re drunk and happy, and howl into the night, like wolves in the forest.
I discover that doing nothing is more fun than having nothing to do
He laughs. “I wish! I wish you’d fuck me.” He howls this into the night. He doesn’t care who hears. “Fuck you all!”
A man at another table pointed at me, his hand trembling, and said, “Itzak Stern sat there.”
I am distracted, and slightly repelled, by her moustache, can hardly take my eyes off it, actually…