2004-02-17 - 4:10 a.m.

Left knuckles sore. Played till it broke.

This note in my pocket today:

"Magnificent rainbowdrops cascade up the invertical candycobbled highway."

This is the sort of thing I like to tell myself. Maybe I'm an amnesiac secret agent or something.

If you get over your mistrust I'd keep you at the perfect distance. We'd be fantastic with starlight blood and no kind of dance anyone's ever seen. I'd open one for you, fling the bottlecap over my shoulder, you'd tell me what you think about that and it would be great.

I believe it, with everything that's left.

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