My Little Golden Book of Phobias

A friend of mine is dying of cancer. Or chemo, poisonous swill that it is. Therefore, I am eating chocolate truffles from a box that says Moonstruck surrounded by stars. 

I rode the Coast Starlight train to Portland and it was delayed 6 hours. We, the passengers, were remarkably tolerant, patient even. I reflected on transportation in India and decided that waiting for a train in Seattle wasn't so bad. The station is a ruin, like an old call girl, all smeary mascara and runs in her stockings. You can still see bits of marble and and a gorgeous sculpted ceiling. 

Coming back, I sat next to a very nice faggot named John and we talked the entire time. We both decided that we have to see a woman in the White House before we shuffle off this mortal coil. 

I have eaten every truffle so it must be time for bed. The Sunday NYT has to be dealt with.