quelque fois...

...I sit with my thumbs a-twittle, wondering at the world. At friends who have fallen in love with Japanese men, been absorbed in strange worlds I'll never see, write to me occasionally about what song it is that reminds them of that one time when. Guitar strings play on without me but I find myself pleasantly silent in the hubub of whatever it is this city has to offer. Be it overpriced ice cream or underpriced all-you-can-eat pizza with more wine than your liver knows how to process on a monday night. screen porches slam, you're caught red-handed with someone else's computer in your lap. writing nonsense.