every night when i get back to the east bay and make the walk from the train station to my apartment, there is this black and white cat that hears me coming and cruises out of its house to follow me. the thing is, it keeps coming closer and closer to the stairs before it decides that it has gone a little too far from home. i am starting to get a little paranoid that this cat may, in fact not have a home, and is eying me with an ulterior motive that goes beyond the fact that i pet it.
my friends are off to vegas for a bachelor party. hopefully they’ll behave as monsterously as i have at such occasions in the past. shit the whole purpose of those things is to be a total and utter beast, so that type of crap is out of your system, and you never want to go there again. i myself feel no overwhelming compulsion to go to a brothel ever again, although i have to admit that when i was drinking seriously, the notion came up a lot more.






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