well... just one of those times... going for a refill of ice-cubes in my glass... in the thick of night... an addict like any (happy to be one, somehow i'm able to live with other people), and so the slow trance... striding toward the fridge, in a house clad by night... dancing... jigging, whatever the cool kids are saying (only now, can a 30 year old sound so out of date as a 70 year old)... wow! check out my wriggling up-right... that *** ****... walking for a refill of ice cubes grooving to salt n pepa's push it... must be akin to something akin to the scenes under an Aztec temple... you know, that over-powering sight of engaging in capital punishment... oh man, now i got the moves, and pet names for pets that don't exist... move me to Poland and i can switch off the "addict" in an instant and remain free of ***** for 30 days... i'm actually blaming it on the environment... these isles ensured the very few a good. i got the salt n pepa dance to the fridge for some ice cubes... as ever, a party, and finally it's no longer a frankfurter-fest! the best one you can have: solo, and the amphetamine thrid-person bypass that would require a publisher and a profit motive for writing on white. beautiful... absolutely beautiful.