Like Crazy: A Review
I’m at about 10% functionality today, given that I drank 3 French 75s and a bottle of Barolo BEFORE I ate dinner last night, but I’m going to give this writing thing a whirl anyway.
For a long time, I’ve been corresponding with a lovely young lady named Auré. Like many of my friends, we met after she emailed me about the Huffington Post piece I wrote about marriage. Seriously, I found no less than five bosom buddies through the aftermath of the storm that article created. “Do you think it’s creepy that we became friends on the Internet?” she said when we met at the Union Square Christmas market yesterday.
“No,” I assured her. “3 of my 10 best friends have never even heard my speaking voice.”
