4am is an appropriate time for blueberries.

It's four o'clock in the morning. I still can't sleep. I'm going to start packing tomorrow whenever I get up. Tinkerbell is going home. It's not Cali sun, but it's sun nonetheless.

And I'm waiting for that call I'll never get. And I'm waiting for that text that'll never come. I'm done waiting. The tie is going in a box. For ten years. Or at least for as long as I'm away. It's the only thing I know to do at this point.

So, I'll eat my blueberries. And the only thing I will wait for is tomorrow so Astor Place Music Scene & I can dance to Passion Pit and Two Spot Gobi while I feed the red monsters and the cardboard whores.

Abe, Jason, Peyton, and Woody... Back in your boxes. We're peacing out.