Write, You Punk

I have an agent for my novel, Happy. He is kind of a bigshot, so he will remain nameless, for the time being. But the point here is that I had a dream this morning that I ended up in a nightclub that was like DNA, and I saw him, and he was this crazy rock star on stage with a giant black mohawk, and his backup singers were the Vivid Girls. I turned to whomever I was with, and I was like, "Wow, I had no idea." He looked like Edward Scissorhands. I was impressed. I have no clue what all that adds up to mean, except to say the dream was rather pleasant. In any case, I am supposed to finish my novel by the end of the summer. Which is fast coming. I guess I better hurry the fuck up.