is this what you wanted?� velocette?
r�aliste rachel evans?� is this what you wanted, man?
sarah got bleached, but you lost your cool, buddy
tigertown, jasper johns, i'll never buy your lousy records again

three weeks in monaco.� monaco is nice.� people don't own houses.� they just rent.� they live in hotels, they live in casinos, and they live in race cars.� nobody smokes crack in monaco.� seriously.� it's awesome.� in the worst areas of monaco, you couldn't get mugged.� at the very worst, you might find one hundred and twenty euros on the ground.� the streets are paved with free money, and you pass by people leaning in doorways and saying, "psst!!� are you looking for anybody?"� so cute, the people of monaco, so eager to help you find what you are looking for.� "are you selling speed?"� why yes, they are selling discounted tickets to see the grand prix!!� vrooooooom.� the ambulance arrived but it was a false alarm... when the lady said she wanted to kill herself and her children, she meant she wanted to treat herself and her wee babies to "death by chocolate."� tee hee!� in monte-carlo, le petit couteau assailed her adoring fans with "ghetto poetry" about multi-tasking and being a tiny expatriate of jersey.� maybe people did smoke crack.� but i didn't.� i'm straightedge.� damned crack heads.� i got a google hit from someone searching for the phrase "turkey of the sea."

i grow jealous of those that live minimal.� in the monacan fashion.� in the now fashion.� a few pieces of furniture, a few pictures, a few pieces of music, a few books, a few appliances.� but nothing that weighs them down.� nothing that suffocates them.� nothing that makes it difficult to move.� the guy with the fur coats said that his primary ambition in life is to make enough money to rent enough space to store his old junk.� broken down cars, antique computers, old makeup and perfume.� i felt sorry, because he realized that his houses are full of junk, and he can't part with it.� i am in the midst of, how do you say, "spring purging."� i cast immaculately preserved souvenirs and memorabilia of teenagerhood out into the world.� the dirty affluents line up to give me way too many euros for things, for rides on the bus of comets.� they unwittingly help me optimize my space.� they help to defragment the hard drive of my life.� the rest goes to charity and garbage.

two inch pencils, trashed.� elementary schoolwork, shredded.� letters from people that stopped mattering, shredded.� collages, shredded.� original paste-ups of old pamphlets, shredded.� bums and ug bugs herded into a rocketship newly christened by prince rainier III, and shot into the sun.� au revoir, les bugs de ug!!� party with sunshine!!� shred everything!!� wring nostalgia's neck!! no regrets.