THE TROUBLE WITH OUR BOOK CLUB (freestyle)

OK so have to admit our book club all but died!

I believe the recipe for disastor was a most unfortunate combo of 3 black gay men and 2 over 40 fag hags couple that with onemember who didnt even finish high school and is still living on EBT benefits in the mix 3 of 'em are looking for mates and trust when you put a single gay man in a setting where their is no new prospects for him he morphs into a bitch on wheels.

However, I miss my book club friends except two they never contributed jack shit and one of them had roaches in his house. I swear i wouldnt even put my knap sack down for fear id carry "uninvited company" home! Funny thing is when it was due to be at brother so and sos home id have a ready made lie on my lips as to why i couldnt attend then id innocently ask....oooh can I be on speaker phone! It only worked three times. The lonely homosexual blew me up " "Yall know that child dont do roaches, no shade he will say so his self" (I got this from a 4th party!

THEN their was the female i liked her but I swear she was a drag queen in another life. She was soooooo faggy. Shes like 45 and uses those terms those old queens from 20 years ago used...who uses the 'term 'grand fever anymore and I had to ask an old queen what the hell ' I payed him a wash" actual;ly ment ( someone should write a book for obsolete gay terms that would be great! ? Besides, Didnt those terms die out die with Bernadette Cooper, Vanity and that group Madame X? and her tribe of fag hags from 1987?

With great joy I have been following our schedule and I have a new book club I started! I havent told any of the old crowd tho.....

THIS MONTHS READ IS :

WISH US LUCK LOL!

EXCERPT

I'm not particularly qualified by profession or education to give advice and counsel. It's widely known in a small circle that I make a mean tomato sauce, and I know many inventive ways to hold a baby while nursing, although I haven't had the opportunity to use any of them in years. I have a good eye for a nice swatch and a surprising paint chip, and I have had a checkered but occasionally successful sideline in matchmaking.

But I've never earned a doctorate, or even a master's degree. I'm not an ethicist, or a philosopher, or an expert in any particular field. Each time I give a commencement speech I feel like a bit of a fraud. Yogi Berra's advice seems as good as any: When you come to a fork in the road, take it!

I can't talk about the economy, or the universe, or academe, as academicians like to call where they work when they're feeling kind of grand. I'm a novelist. My work is human nature. Real life is really all I know.

Don't ever confuse the two, your life and your work. That's what I have to say. The second is only a part of the first. Don't ever forget what a friend once wrote to Senator Paul Tsongas when the senator had decided not to run for reelection because he'd been diagnosed with cancer: "No man ever said on his deathbed I wish I had spent more time at the office."

Don't ever forget the words on a postcard that my father sent me last year: "If you win the rat race, you're still a rat."

Or what John Lennon wrote before he was gunned down in the driveway of the Dakota: "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

That's the only advice I can give. After all, when you look at the faces of a class of graduating seniors, you realize that each student has only one thing that no one else has. When you leave college, there are thousands of people out there with the same degree you have; when you get a job, there will be thousands of people doing what you want to do for a living.

But you are the only person alive who has sole custody of your life. Your particular life. Your entire life. Not just your life at a desk, or your life on the bus, or in the car, or at the computer. Not just the life of your mind, but the life of your heart. Not just your bank account, but your soul.