730 bouquiniste, 830 smart lady, 930 sweat. my smart lady has figured it all out, and i can't say i'm pleased. apparently i'm a phoney. i already knew. playing tricks on the ones who love me, making gifts for the ones who don't. apparently tom is one who don't. but i'm praying for us to evolve or for my smart lady to be wrong.
i have reduced to the level of jarred minced garlic. i can't stand the smell of secondhand garlic under fingernails next day,
two angels are at war, it aint very good.
sophia's gonna put her diamond on.
i'm gonna take a gift for tom's mother.
then i'm goinna put on this terribly over the top nighty.
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