I gave him exact change for two packs of cigs and wrote what I wanted on his hand, because non smokers have no memory for that sort of thing.
he's such a nice guy.
and just sitting here now with the packs beside me, I find I don't really need to smoke them right now. Their meer presence is soothing.
Allie is threatening me with the bad poem she wrote about me.
I ... I've never had anyone write about me, good or otherwise.. not some creative work anyway...
not even INTENDING it to be bad. I'm touched in a weird, odd, bad touch, icky , but interesting sort of way.
I'm making even less sense now.