We’ve lost our inspiration. I always said I’d get out of music before I became a cliché.
I don’t remember you ever saying that.
Not in words. In my solos.
Anyway, being in a relationship can’t possibly hinge on physical intimacy. ‘Cause that would mean our parents are still doing it.
Which is absurd.
I’d join the circus.
Right behind you.
Thanks for your insight.
What I’m here for.
You knew he was a jerk, didn’t you.
I didn’t feel it was my place to state that incredibly obvious fact. I mean, impose my subjective opinion.
If you really liked me, it wouldn’t matter if I was wearing fishnets or sweatpants.
…you own sweatpants?!
He’s a snappy dresser in the classical elegant sense. Plus, he has impecable manners and a biting wit.
Oh, so he’s—
And he loves girls.
You’re not what you claim
Poser exposed, hoser dehosed
I should step on your toes
Something tells me the Spiral lives.
Oh, yeah. The fire is back.
You want a Tums?
Your cookies are lame
Your chips are the same
You get no respect, ‘cause…
You’re missing the train?
My soul’s waves of grain?
It takes more than just words to hurt me. Unless they happen to be particularly truthful words, strung together in exceptionally observant sentences.
I can’t wait to see the friends that I made in my days of childhood innocence, before high school and its web of competitive relationships, when just being girls together was enough.
Have you been watching Little Women again?