This is problematic for me only because I think my professor wants me to imitate his style of singing, and I’m like “no.” Actually, I didn’t explicitly say “no.” I’ve got more sense than to bad-talk Stevie Wonder’s high notes in front of a room full of jazz musicians who are all bigger than I am…
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He doesn’t appreciate reciprocity. He told me that he was intimidated by me, that he was almost scared to say what he wanted to say. In so many words, he accused me of forcing him to (wait for it… ) think before he speaks. That’s an accusation I can wear as a badge of honor.
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You make my roses open…
you make my fragrance deeper…
Thanks so much, babe! You can feel free to have me over for cake anytime you please. 
I think this is cause for a celebration. Are you ready for it? Because I’m about to celebrate…
Tell the Rev. Harris to pray for me. Lord, lord, lord.
I aint gonna live– I don’t believe I’m going to live to get much older…
6. What would probably be the best thing to tell your younger self? “Enjoy your fucking youth. It will disappear quickly. And the world is much more cruel than you think it is. Much, much more cruel.”
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Yes, that’s me, the weakling superwoman. And since it’s only recently that I have health insurance, I’ve found a way to cure (or at least pretend to cure) every ailment with something found in the kitchen or a health food store or a Duane Reade.
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I was interrupted by the sound of two very small people yelling for what seemed like no purpose at all. What the fuck…? Oh, right, it’s Saturday Morning, isn’t it? Time to take the kiddies out to wherever it is the kiddies go on Saturday Morning. God dammit! Hush those kids! I thought. Don’t they know there are hung over people on the train?
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I have reached that time when minutes augment into sixty second intervals, and each of those encases the life of a star…
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