Indy, we’ve come to that time where I call upon you for a favor, knowing full well that it means I’ll probably have to help you bury a body someday, no questions asked. I’m willing to make that bargain.
Today is the day my book comes out:
Los Angeles is Hideous: Poems About An Ugly City.
It’s a funny coffee table book, which means you don’t have to be alert or even terribly sober to read it. By virtue of its concise nature, you can probably blaze through it in half an hour.
This will help me in my lifelong goal of becoming Poet Laureate of the United States and/or Canada. (Not Australia.)