The resemblence between the best friend we never had, Mr. Johnny Depp, in Blow and our very own Peter is simply too powerful to ignore. Watching that movie, I was continually looking for both myself and our collective third leg, Eric. Also, as I drove home, I couldn't shake the feeling that I, too, through some osmosis, was carrying large quantities of drugs that I had to hide from the coppers. The overwhelming paranoia was more than I could enjoy. Perhaps I am impressionable...
edit: I highly suggest watching that movie with a convicted drug dealer...especially one as charismatic and knowledgable as friend Paul...the surreality and interactivity are joyous...
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So I'm bored at 4 in the morning reading back-issues of blogs to understand the friends I never truly had and, while I appreciate the complimentary sentiment, it occurs to me...I was never convicted! And after 7 days and one last damn time peeing in a cup while a cop watches over my shoulder and plays with the change in his pocket the whole wonderful enlightening nightmare goes away.
So I'm bored at 1 in the morning, trying not to write a paper, reading back-issues of blogs to understand the self I can't keep track of and it occurs to me...I forget that anybody besides the three of us actually sometimes reads this shit. Paul, welcome to the cyberspace version of us. And late congrats on the end of your nightmare. Rennfayre beckons.
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