Good morning, boo. Last night was extreme. I go out like, once every six months anymore. I kinda hate the club, it's my most awkward setting. If I'm not feeling tribal there doesn't seem to be much there, there.
Ghost ships. People in a night club are like ghost ships. And I have to be on a certain frequency to navigate.
But Rachel was there, and I haven't seen her in ages. My whole night was redeemed. Cab drama, this really nice guy at the door who waited with me for my ride, bottled water, leftover robotayaki when I finally made it home. I wrote you a love note that I thought better of in the light of day. I passed out.
I woke up hours later with a massive headache and got up to greet the morning. Hello, San Francisco.
I went back to sleep. I woke up again. And now I have a gang of stuff to do to prepare for tomorrow so. Good day. From what I've seen so far, at least.
I like my boyfriend's new song. It feels like slamming a door over and over again.
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