But With a Lover I Could Really Move, Really Move, I Could Really Dance

I haven't accounted for anything yet. It is November and I am sitting in a bathrobe on my mother's couch, sipping coffee my father made and watching the Today Show on mute out of the corner of my eye. I bought a notebook yesterday and starting writing in it, maybe that will spill over onto the Internet soon. I am applying for jobs. I am thinking about going to cosmetology school. Barack Obama is our president; they're still counting ballots but it's not looking good for Prop 8; less than an ounce of marijuana has been decriminalized in Massachusetts. I only want to listen to the beginning of this song over and over.