Tonight while tearing my room apart in search of something (now I don't remember what it was), I found a stack of postcards I never bothered to send, not too old, either. Written on the bus or in bus stations in August. One I wrote while drunk, on the front is a picture of the tallest building in the world. I can't send it because it suggests a sensual kind of love to its recipient. Well, how was I supposed to know this would be the wrong thing to say when I came back? Oh never mind.

My ex-boyfriend kept asking me tonight if I wanted to be part of "the band." What can I say when we're three thousand miles apart and we seem to have no real ideas? Should I commit to the very idea? Where was he when we had these ambitions, back when we shared an apartment? He lost interest. He said I didn't think he was serious. I say that I did but that he didn't seem interested in collaborating with me. Paul and Linda we weren't.

Now he's trying to figure out where I'll go so that "the band" can really happen. It's not an actual entity, just, as I said, an idea.

Cynical Coffeeshop Girl showed up drunk on ICQ, showering me with some compliments. Before she signed off, she made sure to add "I just regard you as a friend," for fear that calling me "extraordinary" was out of line.