I would like to think there is more to a Saturday than sleeping ’til 1PM, drinking four cups of joe, book journaling, eating a grill cheese sandwich and then masturbating. But since that’s all I’ve done today, I pretty much think that’s all there is. I doubt I’ll even speak to one person today, only if the cashier makes small talk with me when I go to buy a sixer later today. Even then it will be awkward and forced. I’ll drink the beer and watch a Strokes concert on YouTube, only wishing I was cool like them with disposable money to burn.

Lina sent me a text as soon her plane landed in San Francisco, just to let me know she landed safely. It gave me a brief mental boost, like a rush of sugar to a diabetic. I was turned-on and a little flattered because you always see people on a plane pick up their phones as soon as the plane lands, hurriedly texting the people in their lives that are at the top of their minds. I was at the top of Lina’s, but I wondered why her husband wasn’t.



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