I haven't posted here in a while. I check back here all the time to read other people's entries, but I rarely have anything to say myself. There's a lot of crap I could say right now, but I think I'll hold on to it for a while. Lots of big things are happening. Moments moments moments.
If she wants to dance and drink all night, well, there’s no one that can stop her. She’s going until the house lights come up or her stomach spills onto the floor.
This night is gonna end when we’re damn well ready for it to be over.
I envy -- but I'm not sure that I envy -- those for whom a biography could be written, or who could write their own. In these random impressions, and with no desire to be other than random, I indifferently narrate my factless autobiography, my lifeless history. These are my Confessions, and if in them I say nothing, it's because I have nothing to say.