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.