here’s an excerpt from my journal i kept when i lived at 1256 ave. d. in seaside.

3.27.0.

i tried calling you but you’re machine was off. how far are you going to take this cold sholder thing? i am sorry about my past, i hid it for you. pretend you know me and i’ll love you like i know you. my bed is the only warmth. dark and frozen. you left without even a note. pretend you know me and i’ll love you like i know you. . .

there’s more, but it doesn’t fit, not really anyway. . . if you really want to know more e-mail me.

adam.

---

Archived source: Wayback Machine capture