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and her eyelids are hooded from the debauchery, but she cares kind of a little at this early morning point drinking ice water.
She always recalls being at the Venice, CA Campari party and playing... "... a million young poets screaming out their words..." and being ordered by Paris to turn it off but with a compliment "it's been great. you're doing an amazing job and I love it but not that song here."
The leaves jetted off the trees obey gravity, and she was still in love. Luckily, it wasn't the frenzied maddening limerence of weeks past. Now, he had given her a little sustenance that fed her well.
He had given her Stephen fry's mythos book.
He had thought of her. It was
rather
amazing.
Yesterday, it had been hot, and she had walked in his woods with him. She had no doubt whatsoever that he would recall her now, and she wished she had kissed him. She almost wished she had made the shrimp and peppers cheese omelet herself, but the eggs he had given her were love enough.
"can I have your autograph, he said to the fat blonde actress.
"over the hills we go, looking for love."
[pause]
She had found the missing ball, and he was coming to see her this weekend guaranteed by words and looming Alabama.
She had also discovered mead in fucking macon.
granted, it was expensive as fuck and she HAD to stop this flow of spending, but ohsie wellsie it was what it was. Yesterday, when he was holding on to her, he took her on a tour of all of his haunts in Athens.
"holy shit. that was the golden pantry I worked at."
"really? you worked at a golden pantry."
"my friend make worked there. it was like the cheerleader. I did it because I was curious about him. I lied to my mom and told her I worked at Kinney's shoes at the mall because she would never have allowed me to work at a gas station."
and the day of the moon was beginning, and it was also the first day of fall.
she thought she might send you "the good kings" and another playlist.
She loved you bigtime, but understood she had a lot of eggs to utilize.
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