Okay, if Philip Glass failed to energize me, I'm sure Mozart's Requiem will do.

Un dimanche de lundi de Pâques est sûrement une excellente occasion pour sortir draguer. Loin, là-bas, de l'autre côté de ma porte d'entrée.

Damn, I like tuna salad, but it's like you should never eat that at home unless you're willing to burn the place down afterwards.

I may or may not have meant synchronicity, I'm not sure. Damn. Somehow matooisms feel more acceptable in tweets than in blog posts.

I just had one of those weird serendipity attacks.

I'm tired of dreaming of what I'd do if I won the lottery; it's time to switch to imaginary boyfriends.

I need to date a barman (or an alcoholic) so I can find out which booze I like.

What a fucked-up generation we are.

I only ever see the same three or four neighbors. I'm sure they're paid actors, and the other doors are just cardboard props.