waiting for photos to be developed, listening to leonard cohen constantly, blasting the air conditioner to pretend it's autumn, eating a whole pizza, petting the neighbor's cat, ordering a cheap persian rug. wow what a summer.
I misk you livejournal. You're like an old friend who calls me, but I don't listen to the voicemail for a week, and then I feel guilty for not getting back to you, so I wait another couple of months until my guilt recedes and you've forgotten about me. Well, here I am. With an excessive amount of pictures.
Ugh I'm so happy. Whenever this happens, I can't write anything more than simple sentences like, "Boston was fun." "Sam is funny." "He dresses kind of like Euro trash now."