I want one.
I’m thinking about what to wear to the cocktail party, focusing on how good it will be to take it off. Shall I stuff the outfit in a garbage can in the tenderloin on my way to the show? Leave it on the corner where its complete lack of style can outrage a passing sex worker?
This isn’t whining, per se: it’s just a moment of regret. I could have openly indicated that I don’t do cocktail parties, but I dint.
Hello Death. Goodbye, Avenue A.