Poetry reading at Chanel.com on Waterman St. 2nite

Dear Fellow FAMbam,
Today is raining like an attempt to empty out the text from all the books on our shelves. I am trying to make it to this reading, but first, trying to make it to the Providence Mall to get some dope boots at Aldo and then through the appliances at Bed Bath & Beyond. The cabs are clogged,& I've got what is called "tonsillilith" in case you'd like to wikipedia that. It deserves its own critique of the political economy of the sign, for real; an object for psychic investment, fuck it. Its the crevasses in my tonsils where parts of social mobility finds itself inept on the couches of 18th century peasant furniture. Nonetheless, a literary category in diguise: a tonsil stone. WTF, I beg you never to retrieve this from the back of these words. What you'll find, is Api sitting on herself on top of this desk as a closed parenthesis with green eyes looking up at me, looking at you. If there's one thing to do for the rest of the month, go find Hair and bring her back to me cuz I will always belong to her... heart, Flip.