Plots Are For Dead People.

I've Never Been To A Dinner Party Where Everyone At The Dinner Table Didn't Say Something Funny.

Usually She Ordered A Cup Of Coffee And A Cup Of Tea, As Well As A Brownie, Propping Up Her Sadness With Chocolate And Caffeine So That It Became An Anxiety.

Make A List Of All The Lovers You've Ever Had. Warren Lasher Ed "rubberhead" Catapano Charles Deats Or Keats Alfonse Tuck It In Your Pocket. Leave It Lying Around, Conspicuously. Somehow You Lose It. Make "mislaid" Jokes To Yourself. Make Another List.

Twenty-year-olds Have A Kind Of Emotional Idealism About Relationships And About The World That Enables Them To Say, 'no, You Lied To Me. Goodbye.' When They See Wickedness, They Walk Away.

All The Way Out I Listen To The Car Am Radio, Bad Lyrics Of Trailer Park Love, Gin And Tonic Love, Strobe Light Love, Lost And Found Love, Lost And Found And Lost Love, Lost And Lost And Lost Love—some People Were Having No Luck At All. The Dj Sounds Quick And Smooth And After-shaved, The Rest Of The World A Mess By Comparison.