this isn't write

[37beer1drunkman]

so i'm standing there on the corner with a bag full of groceries and a postcard written to my girl, and the world flies by with out a word just the sound of all my dreams, crushed under a bus, i scream and throw a fit, spill my apples and milk on the pavement, such a shiney puddle of disappointment and despair, i wonder where i might go, to buy

Comments

[collide_a_scope]

We will most definitely go anywhere you want, Seb.

If you want us out in St. Anne's, we'll make the trek. If you want to go to Shannon's, that's awesome. Just a warning though, Thursday is stripper night at Club St. B. They're usually pretty bad, but fun to laugh at.

We'll miss you out at the trashy bar tonight. Bran-lok will dance with an ugly girl for you.

[ooknabah]

Seb, how would you feel about Transcona night being your night? Because we can make that happen. Bran-lok will even get a bar star shirt for the occation! Also, any idea when you'll have something you'll want me to look at for the play? It's like you've been avoiding me this past while.... And it's eating me up inside. Why don't you call? Or write? Or sing operettas in my honor? WHY????

Ahem. Yes.

[37beer1drunkman]

transcona night being my night, why does that make me feel quisey? however i wouldn't mind, that could be cool.
as far as the play is concerned i left you a message on thrusday but you never called me back. i have some stuff done, heck i'll email some right now, but i had to put it on hold until tuesday so i can finish this research paper for tonight, what a pain capitalism can be.
but yes i will email you what i have typed and perhaps we can meet up sometime this week and look over the rest.