A Case Of The Sundays:

I am wearing sweatpants and cowboy boots. I have not done laundry since I have been back from New York. Things are getting desperate.

I am writing the great Canadian novel. Or touching up a tired fashion article.

Last night's stamps have not been washed off my wrist, but I have ate breakfast. Things will be O.K. Here is the intro:

There is a line of luxury cars along 6^th Ave. at 41st Street. Every minute or so a limo, taxi or SUV pulls up and the small crowd of photographers perk up their heads hopefully, waiting as the driver opens his door and runs around to let the passenger out.

Then as the door cracks the photographers shoulders slump disappointedly as yet another well dressed nobody steps out and struts up the stairs towards the overbearing white tents that fill Bryant Park.

Full article on Muted Magazine when finished, next edition.

Get some sleep,

R