My brain, my brain, my brain, by mrain

So, what do you say, let's have a party.
We can dance, nah, fuck dancing, let's just get drunk, or high, because I'm sure I've got at least one more of each left in this rapidly aging body of mine, and you know what ...
Someone called me an old man today, well, she didn't actually call me an old man, but she said when she saw a group of older men she thought of me, and you know me, with my fragile psyche and stuff, I was driven back to bed by that comment, and I stayed there, in my bed, for the better part of the day, with a flashlight, counting, and naming, the dust bunnies under the bed, and then I feasted on ham, and ham by products and ... sometimes I feel that I use too many commas when I write, write, write, and write, I mean, I know sometimes I should use colons, and semi-colons, and ...



But back to the party.
Shit, it's two thirty in the morning, it's too fucking late for a party now, let's go to New York City instead, and goof on the tourists, but not ourselves and the apostles, and the reason I added the apostles after I said ourselves was because I saw the Jefferson Airplane in concert in 1967 and the opening acts were the Rationals, the MC5, the Ourselves, and the Apostles, so there you go.
So yeah, I'm hopping on a bus right now, right now after I finish this post and I'll see you in NYC sometime in the afternoon, we can meet up at Andy Warhol's place, and I'll be the one with the glasses and the beard sort of goatee thing, and wearing a button that says "Give Peace A Chance Or at Least A Piece Of That Pie Over There".
Thank you, and PS, most of the girls at Andy's place are really guys, so be careful, unless you are into that thing, and more power to you if you are, but, me, myself, I could never get past the whole Adam's Apple thing ..........