Last night I went to Ben's house to have dinner with him and Cole. We drank White Wine and ate latkes and they schooled me in Judy Garland, who is actually pretty great. I am sad that Judy and punk rock seem so far apart from each other. Maybe they're not as far as we think.
Last night I dreamed that I was in London, but I didn't have a reason to be. I had bought a ticket and gone over but didn't have anywhere to stay. For some reason I couldn't communicate with anyone. I was walking towards a bank, when I realized that I hadn't called my credit card to let them know that I was traveling so they wouldn't let me take out money. And for some reason my phone didn't work overseas. A nice young blonde woman said hello and asked if I wanted to stay with her. I went to her house and it was some kind of crash pad for different homeless expat kids. There was this blonde girl, Hannah, I went to college with. It was so nice to see a familiar face. I was in the living room feeling dejected and scared and I saw Ben, the singer for my old punk band was there. That was nice. But then I needed to get home and I couldn't.