Thursday, April 08, 2010


Each year, Tilda and I celebrate her birthday by holing up for a night of pushing boundaries. This year, we decided to invent a Sid and Nancy scene: we’d take a room at the Chelsea Hotel, enjoy some murder and mayhem, and see if the tabloids picked it up.

We wound up in Thomas Wolfe’s former digs, Room Eight Twenty-nine. No screaming headlines; still, I’m not sure we can go home again.

I was inspired to do some writing.


Diner Nighthawk said...

Wow. Just... nope, no words. Just wow.

Anonymous said...

Your penmanship must be improving because I can read what her chest says!

Jefferson said...

Glad my writing translates to other media.

Jocasta said...

how very Yoko Ono