SOAPY HORSE STYLE

I woke up today having the usual dreamy sequence of a soap opera love affair, a little hard here and there getting a little jumpy oh. However, the scene where I nest, behavioral studies on proper sexual charm applies like a drama soap-opera that requires a freedom hidden beneath my pajamas. Having the usual, had a little work load released and it feels good when it blows, and it smells like last night's beer October fest.

Los Angeles, like most of the cities I've landed and departed has the its beautiful psychic charm. Mostly people -like the day-walker of Pretty Woman who said "Welcome to the City of Dreams, dream on!" on the last scene of that cinderella made into a barbie flick tendency; sexy, teasing; like butter that flies but is creamy. 

While yesterday on Sunset Boulevard corner Kodak Theater. I had a dreamy scenic epiphany "I want to be porn star" I told my cousin about it, she nod and laughed, inside I thought maybe you can be a crew or a light man but not the actor, you are not a horse. Then the dream just translated into a butter pecan ice-cream melting. 

I like America not because they think I am hot like the wings at Hooters. I like America because they can tolerate my kind craziness; they let me be and they play along nice with a little flirt on the side like coleslaw, with steak with a turkey gravy. If only I was born to be here and have a horselike pocket I will buy a house wherein freedom is not for sale, possibly like a video rental wherein you can borrow it then return it. Life is just one nice soap opera sequence you rock then you rest then you just be and you do the thing most people do. They blow the sorrow off.