VEN A MI. Twenty-four hours before the show and the concert is coming my way, a courtesy to me!
The first time anybody has thrown me a fete. Sure, there have been black masses
and secret tete-a-tetes . . . but when has one of the movie stars or misfits sent
me a simple card requesting my presence at a big premiere, a cocktail mixer, even
a simple office party fuck rice aches? But now they're coming by the
thousands to visit lovesick little old me, cheer me in the damp and stuffy
squalor I call home. I'm genuinely
touched! Leave it to the blooming deadly nightshade in my otherwise-wilted
boutonniere: the Soiling Romans. Dem's my
boys!