this story begins before the credits with the number of times my mood changed this morning, between the time the alarm first went off and the time the train finally arrived.
meanwhile, across town, near the covered bridge, georgina and hank, in the midst of their deepest depression yet, had an epiphany: hey we both want someone to put us up against that fucking wall. that was when they knew. they looked into each other’s eyes, sort of.
an aside to the girl in the theatre who will NOT SHUT THE FUCK UP: oh is it in fact complex?? thank you for that. i swear to god. people are idiots, and nemeses come from the wierdest places. like ARIZONA, for fuck’s sake.
i think i’m trying to peel back all the skin off my fingers. they hurt all the time. but that’s what they get if they don’t do a better job.
where. yes.
they are trying very hard to remain positive and focused on the soon. but let’s face it.
please, the thin stranger said, clutching his chest and gasping for his last breath: tell them i’m sorry. give my regrets to the following: susanna hoffs, holly hunter, lindsey mckeon, trina mcgee-davis, and Anastasia Sogorsky. tell them I wish things were different, but the fact remains that i think katherine towne is my new favorite.
and then he was dead.
sometimes I wonder (out of the theatER, into the light) if people in china have AIM. hmmmmm, i go; i wonder.
our car is parked very very very very very very far away.