“My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad.
Stay with me.
Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.
What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
I never know what you are thinking. Think.”

I stole this from the Wasteland.

But I mean it. My nerves are bad tonight. I found the new Peter Wolf Crier album. I drank and listened to it. I thought of him. I always think of him.

Oh how I wish you were here. One day he will inspire me to write a poem, yes?

Miss you. And miss him more than the world.

Marlene

She is handsomely dark, wears a not too tasteless mixture of fairly smart, heterogeneous things, and has a so-called good figure; but all of her is curiously frowzy.

(adapted from Nabokov, The Vane Sisters)