Septmenb r 22 one hundred ninety four

ya know tess, I don't think I want to be a rock star. All you get is money. Rock stars don't do anything except make people happy. Which is a huge thing, but all they get is moe knee. I sing and I dance in my apt. all the time but you aren't going to make any friends being a rock star. They come and listen then file out and go home. What am I talkinabout, ladygirl? I don't know, but last night I went through my box of letters receiveved and that made me so happy. Except lisa's because she's always writin' bein sad. And you say what are you doing trondson-clinger and let me tell you I am so happy right now. All exhausted out and the such light sweat and warm and fuzzy in my sweatshirt and cool Clairborn pants. (very cool, the legs are like square or some shit. I don't know) But I am completely alone . And I'm not even a rock star. I just pretend that people love me and when I'm too tired, I'm still alone. That is my biggest problem, I'm a lonely slugaroo always. Well not when I'm with those that I love. Ya know what I'm saying. I am completely babbling and such because I'm trying to write and listen to Mazzy star at the same time so I'm not completely in it. A little detached from it. But it feels good under my fingers this typewriter. Too many big spaces here. Ok ah. I'm coming home to gloried Snickers bar St. Paul. Tomorrow. I have to pack tonight (it is 3:45 am) so this is all for now and you are beautiful miss Barton.

Love,
the Trondson-Clinger

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