Imagine Billy Bob Thorton in U-Turn. That is what I was reminded of last night seeing this guy into pig stuff on the Upper East Side. The pleasure he took in smelling my foreskin made me shiver because there is my own love of smells, of body odors, and in a couple decades that could be me, man with the crazy Billy Bob Thornton voice, man with too much body odor, squealing in delight, shaking in delight, with his nose in scents, with his throat full of piss, with his mouth full of ass. If you are at all succesful in imagining Billy Bob Thorton here, imagine that distinctive hick voice saying dirty things, saying, "Get on your knees so I can eat your ass." This has no meaning, no humor value, if you can't hear this particular type of voice saying this, saying dirty things. Increasingly I am finding that there are reference points you either share with me or you don't, and really so much of how close I can get to you, can get to anyone, is depenedent upon this, upon them being familiar with these reference points and me familiar with theirs, that these are the things that make me feel connected or disconnected to other people, that this is my life, ours. It's nice to say this or that reminds me of this or that and you having been there for this or that, having been friends with that person that this person on the street looks like, or familiar with the banjo tune in Deliverance, or at the least familiar with what Billy Bob Thorton's voice sounds like.

With this money, I am about to go to Port Authority with Niki and board a bus for Atlantic City. I am so excited.