Portland: A city of fog, of icestorms, of bicyclists, of lovers, of HATERS, of the heart; I missed it in Portland, and found out the same, the heart's not broken 'till you put it to shame.
Friends were there once, now, new company, old eyes, . IT is strange trying to connect with other persons who are in love. It might be all they need, or they are faint to make any subtle move outward?
Recieved intoxication thursday night after an open mic. I met really great people, and one invited me over to their house off prescott and 89th. Beer, beer, black butte and miller life, pizza, mushrooms and cheese, Robotnicka on the cdplayer, a great time, all I needed , even the fall on the tile kitchen floor at 4 in the morning. Revivemnet of the senses. Good night.