March 17, 2010.

Monique, it rings like sideswept hair and bitchin' tits. I'm walking to meet the dame. Light Bar here we go. Everyone stereotypes my tangerines, my fluorescent flats, with the Coca Cola can in my hand, cheap white wine is it's liquid now, I'll assimilate their brand for that.
Vancouver, where theatricality subverts as much as it makes movies.
My stagger over the bridge later might give me away but by then I'll be texting out my drunk love to 11 people, numerated just like that.