Dear Ariana,

A night of whiskey? Asleep in my car in North Hollywood. I miss an improv jam. Then there is driving home at 2am and vomiting by an elementary school. And sleeping. And waking up in the morning to move my car. Also tennis happens. I learn that I have to move in a week because my roommate's manager wants to raise his rent if I stay here. The look begins again. With my high school friend, looking at photos of people we knew in elementary school who are now fat. And delicious free sandwiches. Trailer Park Boys: it is funny and Canadian.

One girl called me 'nothing boy' behind my back in Jr. High. So what if I am.

I miss my high school AP English teacher who showed me how people can be awesome. And my sixth grade teacher who told us stories about living in New Guinea and being taught how to grow watermelons by a boy named Winepiss. It might not have been spelled like that.

Up and down up and down.

~BRAD~

P.S. Yo fuck this guy