magicbeans. nothing if not awkward.

woke up in a strange bed. alone.

was in and out of sleep for a bit. someone was up watching tv or listening to the radio. then a movie. i made my way out of bed. adam was up. 'morning. do you have a hangover?'

'no,' i said. 'just a little disoriented from waking up in a new place.'

'there's coffee in the kitchen. there's sugar, but all we have for milk is heavy cream.'

'that's okay. i drink it black.'

'and there's bread for toast. jelly, cheese, peanut butter.'

'thanks.' i made some toast. poured myself a cup of coffee.

he was watching the dancer upstairs, john malkovich's feature-length directorial debut. also beautifully shot. also beautifully acted, once you accept the fact that the english that all the characters are speaking is really spanish.

brooke, and their friend whose name i never really made full sense of last night, both woke up eventually. watched the end of the movie. and left for lunch, without much of a word to me. it feels a little like a situation that i was in with a girl named jenny at risd. we left a party together after spending most of the night talking. she seemed uncomfortable around me after that. and i never knew if it was because she was embarrassed about being as drunk as she was, or maybe didn't even remember much of the night. or if it was because she had expected something more to happen, and was disappointed that it didn't.

i headed uptown to the office, but realized stepping off the elevator that i had taken my house keys with me when i left home last night, but not my work keys.

and so home. and a shower. and poker with marie and dan. and millionaire on tv with my furniture choices. and then bed.