Things.

My head hurts. I’ve finally realized I’m older than my parents, and my Mom agrees. My plumber sounds like Chico Marx, and knows what he’s doing. I’m listening to someone being interviewed on the radio who I used to do sound for when three people used to come see her, and I’m glad more people have since caught on. My favorite Christmas present was talking to Kelli until three AM. I feel bad that I can’t relate to drug addicts. All my friends from back home are no longer there. I need to buy a 2005 datebook. I want to start some kind of postcard exchange with artists. I need to get out more.