Dear Friend: Lately my letters have just been a series of endless questions, a series of what-ifs and yes-buts. Do you think that I’ve acted foolishly? Do you blame me for what’s happened? I have to go, I can hear the iron ticking in the other room and I feel tired.

You told me about book swapping, and I got very drunk. We ate terrible nachos. And then a man in a plastic fireman’s helmet came over and started talking to us. He slurred his words and told us about his son who was a civil engineer.

To-do: pick up dry cleaning. Ta-da: fall in love.

Ixx gXass sex tape

“I was going to write about the yogurt thing.” “What would that look like?” “An explosion of fury.”