Mr. Coco, Mr. Coco

I’m drinking a Georgian wine, in honor of Comrade Stalin, from the Kakheti region, it’s awful, the flavor of socialist feet, which I’d prefer associated with a guy named Alexi instead of a wine, but it’s doing the trick, I have the nicest buzz, I just worked out, so there are also the endorphins, I saw the greatest movie this afternoon, yes I did my work, 4th workday of the rest of my life, I’m even ahead, an adaptation of Pinter’s The Homecoming from 1973, with a very young not-yet-bald Ian Holm, incredible, oops, there’s Reese, gotta go…Dinner and then fractions, finally Reese gets long division, he’s soaking in the tub now, Big Chrissy just called, the party’s on Saturday, everybody’s coming, oh no what to do, we’ve created a multi-media presentation for the party, Emily’s exhibition is called Unrequited (Blue) so Chris has cleverly prepared a play list of songs that each feature the word blue, “Blue Moon,” etc… Okay more later, I’m going off to did I get the html right? Boris’s feet I want to have a little buddy who calls me “Mr. Frodo,” …”Mr. Coco”