If I were someone else and somewhere else and not this person I am now I would be living on a different coast and my body would be covered with art and I would have some wild hair style in a totally unacceptable color and I would wear unsensible shoes, or no shoes at all. I would work for some independent bookstore and write a poetry magazine that I would sell on the racks there and at night I would drink too much and hang out with people described as rough and stumble into my doorway at five am, fumble uselessly for my keys and pass out on the porch. I would not own a computer and my cell phone would be used only to make drug deals and I would chain smoke no-filter camels and watch infomercials when I couldn't sleep. I would shave my legs only once in a while, when I was sure the night would end in an orgasm and sometimes I would have sex with powerful people who live in Beverly Hills just so I could get a part as an extra in a movie so my parents could point me out to their neighbors and tell everyone I'm an actress even though I am really just a strung out bookstore clerk who writes bad poetry. I would read comic books on the subway and kick stray dogs and play mini-golf with Rugter Hauer and never write to my old friend from back home. I would spend Saturday nights playing my old vinyl, Pink Floyd and Culture Club and the 12 inch dance mix of Tin Tin's Kiss Me and dance spasticly and drunkenly until Rugter came to pick me again for another round of golf.