I'm over at Alabama Street, where we used to hang out all the time two years ago. In the time since, Alabama Street has taken on a totally different significance. A block down from this house is the girl I'm dating, who was only a few hundred yards away all this time, and I've been over the plenty the past few weeks. She's baking cupcakes now and maybe I'll sneak over to snag one later. This house, with its little front yard, where we all used to smoke and conversate, was the cosmic focal point of new friendships, reconnected friendships, and finally, failed friendships. So things are plenty different now.

Tonight, Daisy is working the ukulele, dropping a medley of pop and Hawaiian hits. She's currently working a Plain White T's song, at my request. Raqstar is holed up in the "champagne room," which is partitioned off with a baby gate, to prevent the dogs and cats to run in, and to keep the studious atmosphere in. Shawn is making a video for one of his classes and through the closed door we can hear each manic and high energy take. None of these exact things have happened before but it all feels overly familiar, in a good way.

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