cure_for_pain lexda I vaguely remember the pleasure of waking up at your place alone, rifling through your CD's, and picking something to listen to as I assembled myself in a leisurely fashion. I'd linger as long as I could manage before feeling sheepish, not wanting to go back to my own place a few blocks away. Something felt better about being at your place than my place... A couple of years later I awoke to the same sounds amplified across the warehouse, with its barely assembled walls approximating a living space. Twice the freedom, twice the drama, and no obligations to pretend to be an adult. Now, all the freedoms, all the walls, all the drugs put away. 130905 what's it to you? who go blather from