HI My name is Freida Howard.

Some guy in the park came up to me and said
"How low can you go? How loose is your goose?"

I gave him a searing look of distain to try and get him to leave me alone but that seemed to just egg him on. He went on and on, shit. I could tell you word for word what he said if you want. Shit I will even if you don't want me to. He said" Yes, I'm manic. I have super high highs during which I want to French kiss all girls, big, little, secretaries and parking meters cops, hot to trot overdose makeup gramma types, and especially that lady on T.V. whatsername, you know, that white woman with the cute tits and wanna-be gerri curls. I can't help it, I just have so much love to give. I might explode with a bang!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!But then I have super low lows; I crash and I can't barely remember ever being happy much less actually leaving my house to see a parking meter cop because I know I smell putrid. I disgust myself and God and people will just think I am Satan's spawn and and I just rock and rock back and forth and say Oh Jean, Oh Jean Jeanie, You know Life is a zoo in a jungle. You know Life is a zoo in a jungle. I feel all boxed in and I have an urge to go up to the attic with my Japanese fighter fish, Peter Francis Geraci, and swallow him whole like one of those frat boy gold fish orgies and after that I'd feel such guilt. I'd have to light myself on fire and jump out the window and scream his name in repentants all the way down to the pavement, Oh I'd scream his name for sure: Peter Francis Geraci, Peter Francis Geraci, Peter Francis Geraci, Peter Francis Geraci, long and drawn out,and then I'd eat cement. Yeah, sure, either the jumping bit or I'd give myself the Heimlick Maneuver by jamming into the corner of a table and put my fighter back in his tank so we could both go on living.