hell sometimes you just want to get in your jammies and read bret easton ellis with the window open even though there's no screen and there's a wasp nest right up there against the roof so you'll probably be dead from sting bites by morning. and sometimes it's nice to have your sheets all in knots because you've been writing in an old journal all
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oh. the dream that i never told you about: it was a continuam of my evening with laine and her boyfriend thom. anyhow, you, vivian, and rosie came over and i treated it like it was no big thing becasue it was as if i had always expected you three to show up. we sat around her coffee table, and vivian gave us cigarettes, hayden brought us beer and someone started playing the brian jonestown massacre and seemed to talk until morning and then vivian went outside out onto the balcony to make a phone call, and i put my head on rosie's lap and she lit my cigarette and you said something like, "this is what it is."
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all those things seem very in character for us.
"this is what it is" is actually something i would think, though i probably wouldn't not say it out loud or anything unless it was to people who would get it and not just look at me like they had nothing to say.
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