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October 13, 2001
She had to “pee like a race horse”. I don’t think that’s exactly what she told me when we first met. But that was the truth. And she always described her full bladder like that of a thoroughbred’s.

She was attracted by our Christmas lights.

We had them up year-round. And this night we had our French doors open wide. Cranking the Stone’s “Emotional Rescue” and the smell of weed wafting out on the sidewalk. That’s the night we first met. Our last one was spent tripping on mushrooms. But she never loved more than when we were doing coke.