...

To days of inspiration: playing hooky, making something out of nothing; the need to express, to communicate. To going against the grain, going insane, going mad. To loving tension. No pension. To more than one dimension. To starving for attention, hating convention. Hating pretension. Not to mention, of course, hating dear old mom and dad.

To riding your bike midday past the three piece suits. To fruits. To no absolutes. To Absolut. To choice. To the Village Voice. To any passing fad.


(To being an 'us' for once, instead of a 'them.')


La vie boheme.