My new turntable is so pretty. All these mysterious lights glowing in the early morning darkness of secret motel. I'm listening to Tommy Dorsey and wondering if I should open another bottle of wine, wondering if I should have a sandwich and turn on coast-to-coast, wondering if I should keep trying to write to a special someone. But I think I will go to bed and try to cool the fuck out and save the wine and everything else for tomorrow. Good night to you, dear sweet imaginary reader. I have no right to kiss anyone. But I would kiss you if we were both drunk enough. I would kiss you in the light that leans through a leaning life.