A wordsmith, a painter, an indie-film maker.



I don't date musicians.

And yes, I know, I know. I'm not supposed to be fucking them either--but it's winter, guys. Yes, I know--technically it's spring, but it's cold, thus--well, you know.

In Miranda's world of sexual forays there are but two seasons--one, in which I can juggle both a partner with agreements and many other encounters (this would be when it's warm outside) and another where I can't stand anyone and push myself to the breaking point at which point I'll do something fun and illicit but stupid i.e. bang a catholic kid on a rooftop, fuck a LoHo serial monogamist or, like recently, fuck a musician. Oops.

You see, this is why I shouldn't do stuff like this--because in the morning, he is still a musician and I still can't stand anyone.

And he keeps fucking calling me.

It is reasons as such that the "New Deal" seems even more enticing. What's the New Deal, you ask?

1. I'm never dating again. Well, at least not this year.
2. Balls to the Wall Miranda returns as soon as my plane lands in the PacNW.

More later.

1 comment:

lisa said...

SEE??? WTF? Men = the new Lesbians! When, oh, when did this happen?