everything I say is the

Oh hello, four-thirty!
This is maybe the time of night I really shouldn't get to.
Why do the birds sing all night in Toronto? Have they forgotten about proper nighttimes?
Oh holy holy, I love creemore pints at last call; tastes better than it has for months. And I love that my friend is rolling her thin cigarettes, holding the filter between her lips as she crafts them. And I love the bars emptying out into the streets. And the "drink up" calls (it's almost 2:45 and they have to clear the alcohol)... Have to love these late nights, have to have to because I'm always saying party-all-the-time
but then all of a sudden it gets to be too much -- uneven and unclear, all of a sudden I am untrustworthy and my faulty heart beats a shitty rhythm. And there can be those left over bits of crushes, like, I remember when I wanted you... It's familiarity more than interest, it's out-too-late-at-nights and old habits dying hard. And it's also protecting against broken hearts, it's trying for a back-up plan.

Oh here, have the Lakeview's onion rings, the grease will soak up the alcohol in your system. Then go ahead and talk some sense.




I feel a bit like I'm ready for a sort of change like a sort of shake-up or maybe what I mean is shake=down, no, cool-down. I can't get it up all the time these days.
Maybe tomorrow I will do a whole lot of nothing... you can do nothing with me too if you'd like I guess. Especially if you bring treats.