I can't sleep, but when I dream I tell stories about what happened earlier in the dream incredibly awkwardly to people who aren't listening, but that does not appear important at the time. In my dream I'm like, "I was sleeping outside and this dog came up to me and dribbled all over my bed," and they're looking away because I confessed how poor I was.

It is increasingly difficult to figure out how to save the whole world. Problems with self-worth increase the longer I'm single. Walking around the market with Jen, both of us saying, "If only we were in the market for vintage clothes." La Americana no se vender? Jen probably hearing her. Maria telling Jen to give her clothes to the pobres, because otherwise she's just getting taken advantage of. Basically, that's what she said. Maria looks either twenty-seven or twelve and we still have the clothes because the door to the church was locked.

The light, light blue of the sky above the street. Only my boots walk to bed at six in the morning.

Jen talked about how she wished she could draw because inside her head it's so beautiful, but it never comes out that way, and Paublo showed us his dimensions for his next grafiti project of people jumping in an arch. I was able to say, "Vas a pintar muy grande?"

Somehow my heartbreak always spilling out when I'm wasted and Phil asks, "You even put the titles of the songs on the CD?" I wanted to give Phil the CD at that moment instead, and probably should have. In the end, Jen throwing her fist in the air saying, "Yes!" because I used the phrase mack it to me. "I rubbed off on you!" Telling me if I was here by myself next year I would probably get molested and look at how that girl walks.

"What girl? I missed it."

"It's because she has too much sex."

"Who told you that?"

"It's true."

Don't believe the high schoolers Jen.

Porque no hablas espanol rachel?