rolling around my bed in dress-up clothes as if being unconscious for several hours was an outdoor event that required pants, i've wrinkled my good khakis. a.d.i.d.a.s. all day i dream about serenades, each transition is like another movement in a masterfully written musical, except for the fact that i hate musicals and that the characters of my nightmares are more in the style of life-like films than a theatrical display. i talk in opposites because i can.

yes mother, i've been sleeping all day. when you were gone i was too.