My Dinner With The Infant of Prague

Whew, what a week. Let's see if I can summarize:

Friday night I crashed your party.

Saturday, feeling contrite, I said I'm sorry.

Sunday came and trashed me out again, as it often has in the past.

I believe I had some fun; I'm quite certain I wasn't hurting anyone in the process.

I did some walking, including traversing Bedford-Stuyvesant.

You distinctly warned me not to ride my motorcycle during inclement weather conditions, but I did anyway. Apparently my failure to be maimed or killed was simply, to you, evidence of mental disorder.

Later on, I found you sitting, for some reason, in an electric chair. Then I was lonely for a man.

I also did my taxes.