from my second little black book:

1/13/05 - 10:13 a.m. (on tour)

Beach, again. Sucks, again.

When you finally want to talk to me...I have nothing to say.

We did sit together. We did(n't) get sick of each other(?). A one way street? Certainly not my way. For once I feel like a third wheel, even when we're riding a bike.

"I assume it's my fault..." You hate when I assume.

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