Yesterday was my birthday. I watched many dogs eat ice cream.
It’s past 4 AM and I just finished a paper. That I had been working on all day.
Guys, seriously, college is the worst. Don’t do it. Just don’t.
Andrew VanWyngarden’s handwriting, “I can tell she’d like you”
It’s like you always have to put on a happy face, be the phony baloney, and I’m so not that. I never was that; I’ll never be that. That is part of the business that I don’t like. Maybe that will always keep me an outsider, I don’t know. But that’s fine.
The Clash at The Berkeley Community Theatre, Berkeley, California, February 7, 1979 by Michael Zagaris
I don’t think I have told you yet what happened on our way home from the dance and I don’t really feel like writing about it today, but I will.
There was the most marvelous sunrise. The trees were wet, the fields refreshed, our chaperones nodding….Lotte asked me if I didn’t want to close my eyes, too….I should not stand on ceremony with her. ‘As long as I can look into your eyes,’ I said, looking at her steadfastly, ‘there is no danger of my falling asleep.’ And we stayed awake, both of us, until we arrived at her gate. The maid opened the door softly, and in reply to her query assured Lotte that her father and the children were well and still asleep. Then I left her, with the request that I might see her again that very day. She agreed, and I rode over to see her. Since then sun, moon, and stars can do what they will—I haven’t the faintest notion whether it is day or night. The world around me has vanished.