“We bought this fiber glass six-foot-long blue camen with creepy yellow eyes, took it to the Freeport train station & a kid acted like the camen was eating him & then we replaced the kid with a fake bloody foot & we’d move the camen several yards every time another train would come, so it looked like it was moving by itself…& the police came with their guns…”
I had this aforementioned most charming & surprising encounter with a cute, Wilford Brimley-esque man (in his 70’s) in the red cushy booth right next to me at a neighborhood diner-y place, as I was writing “Punk Grandpa,” my solo show (in progress) about my late wonky grandpa in my cozy corner nook with about 10 little pillows & a view of the 2 huge macaws in this man’s car – it was like my grandpa was right there with me as I wrote about him…
Sequins instead of Pimples 
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