8:00 AM and you're waking up from the longest night of sleep you've had in months. Months. No kidding, and all you want to do is sleep more. But Ruth is counting on you, so up you get. On your feet. This was earlier today, like... Holy shit, it's not even noon. You're fucking stoned and you're writing this thing like it's tomorrow, two in the morning, past your bedtime day-in-review. Wow.
Well maybe that's okay. You can write another one later. You might be up late, anyway, what with the Jeep abandoned on the side of the road halfway to A'romas. Notes in the windows: OVERHEATED. I WILL COME BACK FOR THE CAR SOON, - OWNER. All the doors locked. Windows up. Woops, no they're not. Note to self: Roll up the windows when you bike by the Jeep later today. Okay. Anyway, it's there on the side of the road and probably still gurgling and groaning from overheating, still giving off upset-stomach noises because the radiator's fucked and/or you haven't put enough oil in recently and/or the leaky coolant tank sprayed anti-freeze all over everything and/or you've never even brought the thing in for a check-up.
Amy's coming over. You have maybe twenty minutes. Probably fifteen. She's maybe even already down the street. But she's bringing bagels. You can't deny bagels. What you think about your relationship with Amy Newell is this: she's your ex-girlfriend who should have just been your friend all along, yet you know nothing about a frienship together because you've only known her as a girlfriend. It's like you can't help but feel awkward around her in the same vein as trying to be friends with a distant cousin. Whatever that means... You wonder sometimes who tries to out-do the other, who wants to pretend like they're having more fun than the other. It will be interesting to know if my future self, You, are still talking to her. E-mails? Anything?
You can't stop watching this
movie trailer. And you've shown it to all your friends.
Not much else to talk about.
Ciao.
