I just looked down to realize my hand had bitemarks all over it. Holy anxiety attack. The saliva is drying now. But when are the trees not full, some parts of the world inquire, having the right, outright through history. It shouldn’t irritate me when he breathes out music, the count of it, penciled scores on the kitchen table should not make my eyelids harden. Holyshit I need to go.
Friday night’s amorphous events and eventual party can best be encapsulated with the young French guy, pulled off his adversary post-scuffle, yelling through the distance of the basement, “I’LL PISS ON YOU AND YOU’LL DRINK IT LIKE COLD MILK!!” Me and Xavier just chillin' in the doorway of the washroom—suppressing glee, admiration, disbelief, laughter, cops upstairs on a noise complaint. Went back upstairs after the glare of headlights stopped shinning through the glass at the top of the door. Watched girls giving lap-dances to each other.
i gave lap dances, does that mean i'm a girl?
Posted by: mat at June 21, 2005 3:28 AMit means you're mat. i don't expound on everything, if you can't tell. not even close.
i think my phone's been cut off. :/