I want to write great things. My throat hurts. My head hurts. My neck hurts. My eyes are tired.
I hope your day in Camden was sufficiently rambunctious, grungy, and toocoolforschool. I hope you saw Amy Winehouse and asked her for directions to Pete's house.
It's supposed to snow tomorrow. A lot in Vermont. It makes me feel very, very depressed.
I miss you.