can i have fifty pounds to mend the shed?
It's Father's Day, so I am observing the holiday by leaving my father alone.
Still processing the events of Friday. Andy and I went over to Purvis' ultra-trendy loft apartment. He pays a ridiculously low rent payment a month because no one wants to live downtown anymore. As far as safety is concerned, it's right across the police station.
Purvis' girlfriend is a paralegal...a former history major...so we had a good conversation. A bespeckled, smart girl...the sort I swoon over. They're a cute couple...though I sense she's got a bit of an attitude. Andy was less than enthused at her presence...probably for said reason.
A. has a strange affinity for Michael Jackson's first proper solo album, Off The Wall, and yet somehow, due to recent events...the album rings kind of hollow to me.
We spent our time there looking at P.'s prints of rock shows. He's a professional photographer. He's hoping to sell some of them of them to music mags. He's very shy about his talent...because only about five shots of every roll are golden, but that's to be expected.
After drinking a few shots of apple juice and rum to knock the edge off of some very intense pot, I headed out into the world, mostly to avoid the City Stages rush...girls in peasant blouses, reeking of perfume and boys with with eyeliner and faded jeans.
It's Father's Day, so I am observing the holiday by leaving my father alone.
Still processing the events of Friday. Andy and I went over to Purvis' ultra-trendy loft apartment. He pays a ridiculously low rent payment a month because no one wants to live downtown anymore. As far as safety is concerned, it's right across the police station.
Purvis' girlfriend is a paralegal...a former history major...so we had a good conversation. A bespeckled, smart girl...the sort I swoon over. They're a cute couple...though I sense she's got a bit of an attitude. Andy was less than enthused at her presence...probably for said reason.
A. has a strange affinity for Michael Jackson's first proper solo album, Off The Wall, and yet somehow, due to recent events...the album rings kind of hollow to me.
We spent our time there looking at P.'s prints of rock shows. He's a professional photographer. He's hoping to sell some of them of them to music mags. He's very shy about his talent...because only about five shots of every roll are golden, but that's to be expected.
After drinking a few shots of apple juice and rum to knock the edge off of some very intense pot, I headed out into the world, mostly to avoid the City Stages rush...girls in peasant blouses, reeking of perfume and boys with with eyeliner and faded jeans.