in the cheshire cat cafe. next to the piano. i wasn't sure who i was waiting for.waiting for you to stop playing, waiting for him to come back from the radio show (he never came, but it doesn't matter), waiting to buy your drugs. just reading. waiting to become uninterested? who knows.
i keep talking about the perfect dude. he doesn't exist. we talked about dreams and holding your breath and the way it feels when your feet fall asleep. i need time. alone.
money. jesus. i need a job.
modeling for art students?
that's more of elsa's thing than mine. i'm too self-conscious.
i need something official.
like ice cream?
like t.d.'s, landlocked, soma, laughing planet?
maybe i should stop in amused or cherry canary.
i need to start going to classes.
stop leading people on.
stop being so lost in my own thoughts all the time.
credit card balances and overdue books. 56 stairs doesn't sound enticing enough to make me want to wash my clothes. ugh. talking about love and sex and girls and boys. is better.