Empire/New York State of Mind

'I'm comfortable with strangers, but it's the people I know I have problems with.'

People do worry a lot don't they? This annoys me. I don't really have much to worry about most of the time, sometime I do have things to worry about but I usually respond by not worrying about them. Relax, this is not deep. What reason have I got to write a 'deep' blog? I'm just saying. That could have been the title to this blog actually 'I'm just saying' but I can't go ahead and change it now can I?

Also, just in case you think I've forgotten, I went to New York. New York was amazing.
Woo!

The Apprentice USA: idiots acting like idiots for an audience of idiots.
AND THEY'RE AMERICAN
and they're all very attractive for some reason. It must be important in the US.
and Donald Trump SHOUTS
A LOT!
it's the best thing on telly.
probably.

Have you ever seen Blade Runner?
If you haven't don't worry, but this would be a little bit less interesting.
Well this supporting character called Gaff played by Edward James Olmos (Admiral Adama from Battlestar Galactica BS fans, the father of Lee Adama who is funny because his name is a kind of cheese) anyway he's probably the coolest person in fiction. His job in the film is to arrive and talk a load of jibberish called Cityspeak to Harrison Ford, be generally enigmatic, and leave cool bits of origami around when he leaves. He's mastered a pretty nifty style including a wastecoat, bowtie, leather jacket and fedora.
And I want to be this guy for my party.
I'll need help with the leather jacket and possibly the waistcoat. Help if you can. I have been very unenthusiastic about this party even though I organised it and didn't bother getting anything in New York. Now I feel guilty and am trying to put together a costume from borrowed bits and pieces.

Back to worrying, cause I do try every now and then to maintain a 'theme' believe it or not, in these blogs. A perfect car and a perfect job and a perfect girlfriend to become my perfect wife to move in to my perfect house and produce perfect children seems like such a dreary myth to pursue. I just want to be able to have an exciting life, one I could write a book about that would become a bestseller. I'll take a fast train to hell and have my corpse become food to a million maggots and worms, a withered pocket drained of cash and only a mother to cry for me just for a story to harvest a sliver of emotion from some enlightened biography buff. That's what I want right there.

Hope I haven't taken up too much of your time....