I wake up on Rey's couch to the sound of my phone alarm. 7am. Please no. Morning wood mixed with the remnants of some bizarre dream and the dull, persistent ache of a pending hang over. I have to be at LAX by 9:20am to pick up Dominic. Skyy 90 is something to sneak up on you. I'm sure it wasn't the Squirt.
I've been meeting a lot of new people lately, hence an absence from some writing. I find it hard to collect my thoughts on exactly what to say about any of them. All I can know for sure is that their motivations seem pure and so far I've not been tipped off to anything that would see them as vexations. I've come up with the idea that I need some sort of disclaimer on me that others can visibly see so that nothing is misread. I have a way of being affectionate and meaning it, but no necessarily for the long haul or for developing it past the space and time that I share with someone. Drats.
My new t-shirt line will be called: DISCLAIMER. The word "disclaimer" will be in all caps and basically the logo while the rest of the words will be in the fine, small print.
DISCLAIMER: I am sincere at each moment and interaction. I belong to myself and I share different parts of me with different people. I owe you no explanations.
DISCLAIMER: You need a disclaimer.
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The daily jazz of my mind, as pure & honest as possible; but know that words are themselves filters of the original thought/idea.
