Usually when things gone this far, people tend to disappear
No one will surprise me unless you do.
I can tell there’s something goin’ on, hours seem to disappear
Everyone is leaving, I’m still with you

Exhibit A: The Pants

Exhibit A: The Pants

There’s a pair of jeans hanging off the door of some office next to the old Citrus Theater. I haven’t a clue why they’re there. As far as I know, there’s not a business there. Besides, would that even constitute an excuse? I own a business; these are my pants! I’ll scratch my head about that one, because the last three days out they’ve just hung there. And who knows how long, except the person who left them. And whoever left them there, why did you leave them there? And did you have a spare to change into, or did you go through the rest of the day/night in just your underwear? Is this some political statement? A movement in the doll underground that I haven’t heard of yet?

Ashton booked a ticket to visit me in August. This is something I’m both excited and anxious about. I don’t consider me good company, and I rarely play the host. Still, I get to meet Ashton. So that’s something.

Meanwhile, the girl (girl sounds a little condescending, but woman just doesn’t hit the ear right and lady makes me feel like Jerry Lewis) who is currently occupying my conscious mind has made it into my subconscious. Last night’s dream left me with a smile when I woke up this morning (not that sort of dream, you pervs).

I don’t think I’ll mention anymore about today. Except the words, “a beautiful breath of indifference” are echoing in my head. And that’s eerie.

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