i'm wearing sound-cancelling headphones and i can still hear someone reaching climax in the room beside me. i have to wake up in 2 hours. this weekend was massively brilliant. valentine's day came three days late but the wait was well worth it. everything feels like a slow disintegration with the occasional welcoming diversion.

when andrew and i would have those vicodin and whiskey sessions, inbetween howling laughter about inconsequential discussions of crucial subjects he would ask me if we were jack kerouac or neal cassady. i want to call him tonight to give him my answer. but i need to press "Publish" and get the fuck to sleep.