Dec 30, 2005 14:09
Breakfast at Tiffanys by Truman Capote. Pg 40.
"...But the mean reds are horrible. You're afraid and you sweat like hell, but you don't know what you're afraid of. Except something bad is going to happen, only you don't know what it is. You've had that feeling?"
"Quite often. Some people call it angst."
"All right. Angst. But what do you do about it?"
"Well, a drink helps."
"I've tried that. I've tried asprin, too. Rusty thinks I should smoke marijuana, and I did for a while, but it only makes me giggle. What I've found does the most good is just to get into a taxi and go to Tiffany's. It calms me down right away, the quietness and proud look of it; nothing very bad could happen to you there, not with those kind men in nice suits, and that lovely smell of silver and alligator wallets. If I could find a real-life place that made me feel like Tiffany's, then I'd buy some furniture and give the cat a name."
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who knew reading could be so interesting. i'm wokring on it. as for everything else. i'm goint to try my best to black out of my mind everkything that happened yesterday. i dont even care.i can't think about it. it makesm e sick. like i dkn why but that whole incident freaked me out and i just feel really weird now. violated almost. ugh. i can't think abouti . ok byeeee.
please dont talk about it anymore. please.