So often I turn to this blog when I don't know what to do.
There is no working air-conditioning in this residential hotel. The place you don't want to be during a heat wave in California is Bakersfield. It's 10 Squillion degrees outside right now. I've got my shirt off and some chollos whistled at me from the street. Guess they like the pointy sideburns that do a right angle above my jaw and point at my mouth. Was cool in 1970 and it's cool now, I guess.
I'm smokin' a joint right now. Kwan, we had a great talk on the phone last night, but I still want that DNA test. Doctors told me I couldn't have kids after my wheat thresher accident in '99. It was a horrible movie I was workin' on and they needed a stunt guy to drive the mobile wheat thresher in that car chase on the garlic field. Who knew wheat threshers would tip over at speeds above twenty miles per hour?
I've got all my parts, as you know, Kwan, but I fell pretty hard and the doctors did tests and I'm not supposed to be able to have kids.
What if Vick is right? You're nine months pregnant so that goes back to the time when I took you away from him...
I guess the DNA test will tell us. I'm glad your mother put a curse on Uncle Vick. Maybe that will hold him back better than a restraining order.
I'll be up to see you as soon as I can. I don't have any money. The Mental Health Center owes me three weeks back pay.
It's a great night to toke up and look up at the sky and wish you were anyone else but who you are.
Irv
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