I've been stuck in bed with my typewriter and empty bottles lying all over. Half of the time if I'm not stringing words together about how your skin glistens with the sun or how your hair smells good, it's me listening to music, getting liquored up, and then writing again. That's...pretty much how it's been.

Sometimes, all I want to do is just...be somewhere else with you. Some place, preferably a rooftop, where we could just dangle our feet and just enjoy each other with a half lit cigarette and a couple of drinks.