My year really starts in September
Busy week. My rule to never say no to an invite came back to bite me last week. I was out every night after returning from Baltimore. Both my liver and my wallet hate me.
Saw a curly-haired girl from NYC, a grey-eyed blond from down south, and a brunette actress from Berlin, whom I suppose should be called Berlingirl.
For the first time in months, I find myself thinking about one particular girl. I’m trying not to dwell on it her too much, but it’s not easy.
Still, Fall’s my favorite season and I was alone(ish) last time around. Some company this year would be nice.
Not absolutely necessary but nice.
Hey, when does your year start? Does it start in January like most people? Or on your birthday?
Or September? Mine starts in September. Probably cause I was a student for so long.
And when you’re a fat, clumsy, geek, no one calls you to come out to play over summers. Plus camp’s for people with spare scratch.
For kids like me, summer’s just three months of solitude.
I can’t hardly wait for Fall to come.
Seriously, bring it, bring it, bring it…
Location: 10PM yest, saying goodbye and then hello on Broadway
Mood: excited again
Music: One eye on the winter Oh there’s just a hint of soviet snow