Happy New Year … sort of

She sat in my lap.  I could feel her butt against my penis.  It felt good.  It has been a long time since I felt that way.  A man needs a woman’s touch and compassion.  Misty knew that, but every stripper does.  I went to Silk, spending $160 and $160 in cab coupons.  It was expensive but I don’t care.  It was my Christmas present to myself.  Drinking champagne at midnight and at the Bartell.  Before I left the theater the producer gave me a cup of champagne, saying, “Let’s get Steve’s party started.” Everyone knew where I was going.  The producer said to me before The Blitz, “You should be able to have women over if you want.  That’s fricking ridiculous.”  I live in two different worlds. I’m independent and an author.  I can do anything and write a manuscript or a script.  On the other hand, I can’t respect people or have sex in my room.  Soon I will be a New York author.  Doing interviews, signing a contract, and doing publicity while writing another manuscript.  And still, I look but I can’t touch.  That’s life in a group home.  How many authors live in a resident home?  In April I’m moving to my apartment and I’m doing what I want.  I’m done living in a group home.