And now, time for another late-night walk.

A bit of fresh air, probably a horribly mediocre slice of pizza on Bourbon Street (I’m always famished when I get off work, and not sure where else to go for cheap food – so long, $5) and a cigarette or two before bedsy-land, where we dance with the birds that lace our dreams with their feathers, dreams that have the gift of flight…

On another note, I saw a homan statue tonight on the way home, performing on Bourbon. I stood and watched him for a bit, and…

goddamn, he sucked.

Clara, let’s rock this place – show them the what for, a thing or two, and all the other things to show I can’t think of right now.

Let’s show them beauty.

Wait – did I say pizza before? Shit, I’m hungry. I’m gong to go get me a slice of deeeeelicious mediocre pizza.

Maybe *that* will help soak up the lamp oil, which I still taste when I burp, and still makes me sit a bit oddly…

Kids, as much as you may want to try drinking lamp oil and shooting fireballs out of your ass – which when I got back to this room, I probably could have done, I would like to take a moment to dissuade you from entertaining that thought.

Don’t.

Moment is done, mediocre pizza becons.

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