Like A Hot Turd Down A Hill

HI Laur. I saw this woman with the same back pack as you yesterday (complete with fake daffodil) crossing the parking lot at Camosun with a small child in tow. Also its weird not seeing you every day. Last night a gang of neighbourhood hippies showed up and made themselves comfortable. They were drinking wine out of a bag and it looked like blood. I talked to a guy with dreadlocks and really soft eyes about linguistic theory. Two people were wearing real fur stoles, one was also wearing a horse tooth on a chain around her neck. They were going to the best party of their lives, one that you will regret forever if you don't go to it, and remember fondly forever if you do. They had a blow up dolphin, beach style. After that I went across the park to Seth's house and we listened to David Bowie's Changes and I named a song that has yet to be written. Seth got me to write something random at the bottom of his set list for Thursday's performance. Unfortunately I have no recall of what I wrote, due to the extra large wine bottle that was circulating the lips of the room. Two men were wearing bowties.

Hi Chez. I hear that you sat on a beach and drank vodka full of sand fleas last night. I kind of wish I had been there. Not for the vodka so much as for the company. I'm going to watch the Darjeeling Limited at Jocleyn Cook's house in a few. Gotta make a badass salad first.