Missing the British Balcony Lover

Now that I'm in Laurel Canyon in a log cabin sniffing glue and getting paid well to write Hallmark gibberish, I have really been missing the British Balcony Lover.

Who would have thunk it?

I'm going to find a way to thank Salty Fish and Chips for his continual, muse-like and naked presence.

I will further express my gratitude to the ol' Liverpool Livewire, just you wait and see.

Of course, now there's a new character entering the Whitley Heights scene who I'll call "Pete the Piano Player's friend."

Another whackjob? I have a primadonna, gay, unemployed piano player living underneath me--you do the math.

More on him later.