this place I frequent, Rosebud. I showed up with that stupid thing on my head in the middle of jazz hour. you should have seen the look on those hipster-dyke faces. they thought I'd finally lost my fucking marbles. but whatever, the fake crystals went super well with my leather jacket and grey tie.
um, but how's the crew at rosebud these days? are they still sort of... i don't know how to explain it but... sort of endemic to luxembourg city? like, exactly as you'd expect of a crowd in this place. exactly so.
it's exactly that, yeah. all that shit. rich married ladies, young hipster girls who think swaying their heads to the resident jazz singer's crooning counts for dancing, the boring side of lipsticks everywhere, no activism, no drive. narrow-mindedness and the wrong kind of intimacy.
once, yes. it didn't feel any different from my usual social circles so i didn't return - i mean, what's the point, right? it just felt really incidental. all these ladies and they didn't seem to care anymore than anyone else i knew and i kind of hadn't expected that at all.
she's pretty great. both my parents are like that - if they aren't living for other people, they aren't really living. it's cute but at times, exasperating. i think they tire themselves out sometimes, too.
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don't ask.
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you've been?
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so, what kind of project has your mom cooked up?
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at the moment, it's got to do with optimizing playgrounds. making them safer, too.
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are you - you took a long time to answer this time.
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