B

Hey.

Remember that time we went karaoking in Williamsburg and I overdid it and someone dedicated Where Is My Mind to me because all of the things we associate with humanistic behavior had been replaced within me by something feral? And remember how when you came out of the bar I was standing proud on top of a van, like a lady mountain goat? And remember how I refused to be talked down until the owners came? And remember how they weren't even mad but weren't entertained either? Remember that tiny glimmer of smiling disappointment in their eyes, like my mom had found her way from one coast to the other at 3am just to make me feel bad?

Thanks for still being down.




W

P.S. When the man held my hand to help me off of his van, I knew what a stripper feels while collecting the cash after her dance.