sometimens mondays are nice. you get up early. the sun is shining, your stereo is somehow playing just the right music, things are just rolling. and you get these emails telling the tales of the weekend of your beloved.
while one mail tells the story of a journey to imaginary countries, of traveling without moving, another one just sums up in the most lyrical way the weekend.
had a long weekend full of dance&whoring
winding up being la puta madre of a slut
and it also solidifies my reputation…
I think I did make friends
mostly the ones that called me a slut
but it’s the people that make me a slut
I wouldn’t bother, all by myself…
(I was dancing, on stage, taking off my cloth…)
