|
|
2004-04-20 - 11:37 p.m. Excerpt from another essay: I needed the Coast Guard. All I could grab onto was a blind, senile, incontinent old man in a leaky rowboat. It was miles and miles to shore, and the coast was rocky. For the sake of the metaphor and my inner eye, let's say there was a quaint old lighthouse there. Because I like quaint old lighthouses. Let's give that lighthouse a part in this. It was the light from the lighthouse that guided me, in my rowboat with the slightly pungent old man who kept asking me to read his reworking of Boogie Nights, back to shore.
|