I'm sitting shirtless, hunched over a table in upper-east Manhattan. There are papers everywhere, malas and charms strewn about candles and buddha statuettes. It's 3.30am and I'm leaning over a bowl I mixed with Raisin Bran, Grape Nuts, Honey Nut Cherios and some fresh green grapes - all dry, if you don't count the grapes. I'm shivering or twitching or something, and I don't think it's because I'm cold. The Flaming Lips have been reaming one riff in my head for I don't know how long and I think I'm down to the last grape in the bowl.
It took three hours and five trains to get back to the highrise, and I swear I still hear waves crashing outside the window... but I think it's just a garbage truck. This is life and I love it. I just don't know how I'll explain my midnight urge to desperately fill a bowl full of random bran items with violently shaking hands to my aunt. I'm pretty sure I ate the last of the Raisin Bran.
I'm also pretty sure I need more grapes. God, this is good shit. I could use a cigarette.