Alcapulco Gold

Nice night. Feel the breeze on my back, coming in through the crack in my window.
My bedroom window.

Lights are dim.
Haze hangs in the air.
It smells like what I imagine the colour of sand to smell like. minus the seaweed.

I'm just writing. Spec-ing.

I can't wait till we light it in the kitchen.
Or better yet on the patio.

I think we should lye on our backs in the den and tell each other stories.
Ohhhhh man. It's gonna be so good.

I love you. And I love it. I love how we bond when we're on it.
Here's to a chill mellow.
Here's to summer nights feeling right.
Here's to it just sitting in our freezer.

Here's to Rod Stewart. And Karen O. And Joey Ramone. And Carey Grant. And Neil Armstrong. And any other name that's coming to mind right now.

Oh the moon. To land on the moon with any flag. I think I'm against flag. Patriotism can kill. Kill with rifles. Everyday is judgement day. Oh Edward Furlong. Oh Devin Sawa. Oh poster boys of the 90s yesteryear. Oh to be young again.

I love funny. And I love when people make me laugh. THe kind of laugh that makes my belly hurt. I love purple passion. And mulberry mayhem. And laughtracks and the 2-camera live-studio audience sitcom.
I love Cheers and the way it makes me feel inside.

Here's to Alcapulco Gold and not having to leave my bedroom to travel back in time.

I can't wait.