My favorite picture of you is the one I never took in London, on the street we've never been. You sat between The Men. Formidable figures, made more so by metal and yet, looking back at it now...they seem less metal and more like chocolate pudding, barely reigned in by greasy wax paper. Yes.
Despite never going, we did get home all right. I passed the time writing stories about you in TextEdit and then making the computer read them back to me. When I tired of this, I selected particularly opaque passages for my computer voice and left them on friends' voicemail.

Now it is January and I've adopted the familiar phrase- "What Would( Blank) Do?" (What would I DOOO-OOOO!? PosMens!)-to more effectively guide myself through the rest of the year. There will be less virtual picture taking and, dare I say, no chocolate-pudding-diplomacy. No, these days, the question is: WWNCD? What Would Nick/and/or/Nora Charles Do? Undoubtedly something smart and foxy, with scotch and a champagne chaser. Ah, words to live by.
It doesn't always work. I'm pretty sure Nora Charles wouldn't drunkenly text belligerent messages to a long-ago-paramour, whilst speeding away from a Del Taco drive-thru at 2 am. I'm pretty sure Nick Charles wouldn't be found extolling the virtues of go-cart racing in some anonymous warehouse in Anaheim. It's merely a guideline. Currently, I'm both Nick to my Nora and Nora to my Nick and now and then Asta even chimes in with his two cents. Actually, my Asta is just a wadded-up towel I put on the floor under my window to soak up excess rainwater...Inexplicably zoomorphized in a moment of sheer lunacy, ostensibly so I could direct my shouts of "Asta!" when I'm at home alone drinking rye in the dark. Asta is overrated, anyway. By the second film he's hopelessly annoying and also boring and weirdly sexualized by the introduction of a doggy wife.

Where was I? Ah, yes, well, Royal Tears practice will commence in February. Thanks to everyone that came out to see us in August...Five months ago? Yikes. 2008 is the year we will play frequent, consecutive shows. We will come to your town. We will charm you. In the meantime bring me scotch, dear friends, and Myrna Loy.