Dearest

Lately I've been feeling a bit sad. Let's be honest. I've got an independent streak that smears pretty much across my entire face, with a colorful dash of antisocial behavior streaking through the middle. Oh, I do love it that way. Today I walked downtown and uptown, wearing my seal fur coat and enjoying the brisk cold air. I baked some brownies for the sheer joy of baking.
But I'm missing something. My neighbors, the most fantastic bunch of girls in the world, are up right now dyeing lacy old skirts into an assortment of wild colors on the middle of their kitchen. Yes, at 3 am on a Saturday night.
I think I need to change some fundamental behavior about myself. Let people into my life more, encourage a kind of puppy-like attitude of fun and physical companionship.
Mostly I'd just like someone to bake with.
Oh hell, I don't even know how to explain it. Mostly I've just been in a funk of missing Chanel and Tom. Maybe I'm glorifying them in my memory, but I'd like to sit and eat pineapple poolside again, faux-punk myself out in the middle of Chanel's apartment. Here's to the hope that when I go home for a week, it won't be a complete disappointment.