Cody John, Live From Soho House

Taking a quick break from pop cultural shenanigans to bring the people some literature, written by the Cody John, after several hours of heavy day drinking at a free Kesha concert.

Well, here goes:

“There he was, bright eyes, bright heart. I could smell his last phone call with his mother. His tumi bag was full, mostly of memories, partly of clothes he didnt buy himself. But when he stared at his initials on that black zip up carryon, he felt a sense of purpose again. He was on a mission. He had to tell her. He had to let her pizza. Pizza was and pizza is, but pizza never had to turn around and apologize to god for not being there.”

Alright, that's it. More information on his presumable novel pre-order to come.