old_futon bijou i don't understand how someone could not need to sleep on a bed. i've been spending a few nights there. if the bars are closing and it's time to go, might as well be watching cartoons and holding hands like grown-up sixth-graders at his apartment on the corner of armour and cherry street. i like him. he's cute in the way a bulldog is cute. we are such an odd pair, but i thoroughly enjoy tugging at his t-shirt as he towers over me. i'm gonna have to kiss him soon. i really wish he had a bed. 040709 ... bijou as i said on march 3rd, garr, nevermind, i hate boys. 040712 ... raze i can't recall ever having any great difficulty sleeping on it. my grandfather was a different story. he cried out for my mother's divine intervention. he begged us to call red cross. he was joking, but the horror was real. whatever soft surface he made his bed in back in toronto, it wasn't half as unforgiving as this. that was the weekend i stood at the sink projectile vomiting after the ramada inn's chicken tore up my stomach, while he yelled, "where's the plug for the damn keyboard?" from the other room. i never could look at a heat lamp without fear after that. 230312 what's it to you? who go blather from