2003-09-04 / 4:09 p.m.

I really don't have any tact at all. I was just kidding. Don't get all... like that. That's not what I meant. You knew I was drunk; you were the one that got me that way and I told you I talk shit when I drink. I don't have a very good hold on what comes out of my mouth under normal circumstances and then there was booze and... you worry too much. You agree, you say you know and you wave your hand trying to be dismissive, but really you just want me to shut up so you can go back to your apprehension in peace. I didn't know I could be reassuring and comforting. Things were coming out of my mouth and there was less and less tension and then it was better and I did it and I was shocked and tired and warm and not so drunk as when we started talking. I started it, I know, I know what you heard; just, don't worry so much, please. Don't look for things to be wrong. Don't make it hard when for once in my life it doesn't have to be. Please? And it was all kissing and laughing and small silences and intertwined fingers on my shoulder.

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