i just went to the harp with phil, who it was fucking great to see. both the harp and phil, i mean. i ordered a colorado bulldog and phil ordered something-or-other, and when i went up to reorder, i said, “a colorado bulldog and whatever you gave phil last time,” and he said, “okay, your tab or his?” so nice and familiar. i gave the harp a picture of the harp i saw in london, and i gave phil a small bottle of scottish cream (like irish cream but nuttier and, we decided after drinking it, better). scottish cream, it turns out, does not mix well with vodka and kahlua, so i am feeling kind of funn-ay. phil sat through all my pictures, all twelve rolls.
did i tell you how great mark and funky and tracy and steve are? no? we went to the crusting pipe (whatever that is) on saturday night, and drank some wine and stuff, and afterward mark and i sat on a curb in covent garden and talked about stuff and things and stuff. he is nice and fun and when he gave me a ride from aston’s to school on sunday, we listened to “have you seen me lately?“, both of us yelling, “can’t you see me? come on, color me in…” and i was on the left side of the car, but i wasn’t driving. it was backwards and beautiful, as i’m sure you understand.
somewhere out in america, it’s starting to rain.