But it's the next day, and she's certainly been talking to her frantic boyfriend, and you never know. I write about suicide sometimes. But I would never do it. As far as hell goes, it may not sound like it, but all this has been close enough. Even if I've done enough good to get my sorry ass into heaven, heaven would never change, Frank says.
Perfection is eternal.
I would run around up there, bitching. The angels would say, there he goes again. That dumbass thinks he's in hell. As my roommate played over and over again his perfect song.