gnoll's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Kurt Spader James Spader stopped by my place last night. All strung out on something and sweating all over Lucas� armchair he rambled on and on about how difficult it�s been for him to get back into cooking -- complaints about his oven and cooking times and shit like that. His face was flushed and it only took a moment or two for a bead of sweat to inch out of those unnervingly open pores, to the size of a ladybug, and then make a slow crawl down his face while another began to emerge in it�s place. I counted several, timed them even, though trance-like curiosity jumped back when the doorbell rang and I was thankful. Kurt Vonnegut curled up on the couch next to me in a mess of blue comforters. Spader was done wth talking and I didn�t really know what to say or ask, or if to even bother since Kurt looked really tired. After a few awkward minutes passed Kurt got up to check out the bathroom letting his shorts slip a little revealing a sickly and member-less groin. �Oh� I said. 2:56 p.m. - Monday, Jan. 19, 2004 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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