+
TH: Every now and then you kiss someone and realize only after that for the entirety of the kiss, you were listening to Peter Frampton’s Greatest Hits. It’s like you’re embarrassed but also like, not actually.
RB: Uh, Get Real I do it on purpose.
TH: You WOULD. Why are your fingers drumming in triple time?
RB: It’s awful. I just braved the horrors of Ye Olde Blood Test only to find out that I’ve been on too high of a dose of my synthetic thyroid medication for quite some time now, rendering me on paper a bit of a Meth-Head. It’s incredible actually- I had gotten used to hearing this drum beat in my head that my fingers and toes have been trying to tap out relentlessly, in between haircuts, Dinner at a Fancy Restaurant, in bed, mid-Shower, up and down the escalator, and I’m just now figuring out that the whole time it’s been MY OWN HEARTBEAT that I’m hearing, this vicious biologically masochistic taskmaster.
TH: Your sentences have lost their punctuation for a while now, also, I feel I can point out in good faith. Very long, in person and otherwise.
RB: It’s unreal, just unbelievable. In a few weeks I’m going to go to Tulum, lay on the grassy floors of some faded Mayan breakfast nooks and let the geeked-out parts of my Self seep down into the sand, relinquish my seductive White Knuckles, and pull up whatever is waiting down there for me. I’m crossing my fingers it’s some kind of subterranean piece of Light.
TH: I vote you eat unending quantities of gluten and ice cream and see where it takes you.
RB: UGH, SPIRALS. On that topic, I keep going on dinner dates with girls, new ones, and looking into their eyes to see if I can tell if they are particularly Damaged before I fall in love with them. I spent my twenties doing that process in reverse and it was a total bust.
TH: (Staring at the boy waiter) I wonder if he knows what a Heartbreaker HE is. We love them.
RB: “TOM PETTY”. I used to sing the harmony to Free Falling when I was 15 and dream about being his child bride.
TH: Quit tapping your toes.
