index | archives | notes Thursday, Aug. 25, 2005 2:37 a.m. << [ Texting ] >> Two in the morning, windows rolled down, four people in the car including me. I know one of them excluding myself. Cake is blasting from the stereo; I hate Cake. The streetlights are orange and gaudy and harsh, and they infect the sky so nothing is visible except orange mixing with black mixing with blue. The three others are in the front of the car, laughing, talking. I don't have anything to say, so I don't say anything at all. We drive over the bridge to my house; I'm being dumped for lack of a proper alibi, and Joy Division is playing now, and I'm out of place and I don't belong here but I'm really, really happy. I don't get it. << | x | >> whatiscopyright.org