and I woke up, hard, very hard I woke up and things started coming to me like a flip book. was it the gay scottish fireater who left the hicky on my neck or was that a scratch from the itchy morphine........... hard, hard memories of tearing off my suit back stage, downing the rest of my watered down gin and tonic, and waltzing out on that stage like it was the only truth I knew. I spoke. and. I spoke. I think I tripped and almost fell, but I did it father, I did it. and for the first time in my entire life I truly knew what it was like to be beautiful. and by the time I put my wrinkled clothes back on and stumbled out onto 25th st. at a quarter to 4 in the morning, I new I could cross off one more on my list and I was one step closer, to forgetting you.