There was something in the air last Friday. It was a full moon and hotter than hell, but still.
Two couples I know broke up.
A sometime amour read me the riot act via text messages.
Walking home from the block party, I came across a girl sobbing her way along Boren Street. (When I asked if she was okay, she managed, through tears, I'm fine, I'm just being silly, and then she sank to the sidewalk.)
Yes George, I know I need to live in confusion, to examine and endure and even embrace it, but sometimes I'm not sure how much I can take. There seems to me a certain comfort in being settled and incurious.