Well, Soup, glad you asked. No one else gets to read this. A man tried to come into our house. I heard him try the door in my bedroom around 5 am, and then the back door. I was terrified but, knowing that the doors were locked, managed to fall back into a dream about a dance party. However, when my [psychotic] roommate James was trying to go for his 5:30 Sunday morning jog, he found that he couldn't get out the door because there was a man sleeping in front of it on the stoop. Peacefully, like a princess. He had long black eyelashes, too, just like a princess, and a black moustache, just like a Latino. So James woke us up to tell us of his plight, and we took turns looking down at him through the blinds. I groggily called the non-emergency police number and they sent two goddamn firetrucks, including eight firemen, sirens blaring. They woke the Latino princess up, he walked away, disoriented, shirt on backward, and everyone cheered. It was a beautiful morning and I would have slept through it otherwise.

How is everyone else? Who is coming to Virginia's farewell at the King Club tomorrow night? Let's daaance and make my dream be real again.

Why?

What a sad blog.

This morning at 5:30 two firetrucks rushed to my house with their sirens blaring. If you want to know why, you have to ask.