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February 9, 2009
As my friends from school graduate and find jobs elsewhere, some of them donate half-empty liquor bottles to me. They know their former beverages will have a good home, and they're spared the trouble of loading them into the moving van.

The upshot of this is that while my social circle diminishes, my collection of cheap, terrible alcohol grows. A barely-palatable cocktail made with Barton vodka is cold comfort when I'm sitting here alone missing the friend who gave me the bottle, but it is better than nothing.

Eventually a warm happiness sneaks up on me and I fall asleep.