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January 29, 2010
I didn't work today, so I watched half of Milk and wrote in the brown leather chair, watching frozen patches of ice in the backyard reflect the sunlight. It was my dad and brother's birthday and I didn't have cards for them, but I figured it really is the thought that counts, and I was full of them. My brother stopped by with a friend and asked me if I wanted to smoke a joint but I declined. His friend sat down while he roamed the house in memory. My dad came home late, tired. He deserved more from me.