seeing my parents is always funny. my dad always gets my jokes and my mom laughs at inappropriate television scenes really loudly and talks about me when i walk upstairs. she gave me all of her old clothes she was going to give to goodwill and says funny things when i try them on in front of her like, oh i was smaller than you are. isn't that funny? why would you say that? and ozi writing a new chapter in her book about a grape. and alex when he pulled Me and You and Everyone We Know from the middle of my bookcase. all of these heartbreaking moments happening around me at what seems like the wrong time, but time doesn't exist.

outside i held three rocks and lined them up like brothers. then i pushed them down the hill and i think if i was in preschool again i would try to build a tower, too. or would i? if i could go back, would i still trace the timeline and masturbate under my desk with my coat on and throw a huge fucking fit over being made to write a report on the statue of liberty because i didn't want anything i wrote about the statue of liberty to be a book report about 354 stairs? things were so meaningful back then. when i actually saw the statue of liberty she looked small and i was bored after the first five minutes. it was nice to ride the ferry there, though. and i took a picture of my friend courtney sitting in the sun with a beautiful baret in her hair.

i get to read this literature and play drinking games

and into the abyss of the internet i go

Bolsheviks!
Weeping!
The Same Location!
Dave Van Ronk!
he was a friend of mine!
part of my heart in Olympia
part in Houston
part in Denver
part in Bilbao
and Alabama

thank you summer
for this

dear daniel bailey i wish that i could read all of your poems kept in your computer for further notice
and i wish that sasha would send me her thing about a mail order bride
and i wish that nitzan would marry adam
sometimes i think hey all of my friends should get married
we could go to weddings forever
we could ask for more time
more paper
and water our dumb roommate's flowers
when my brother forgets to say goodbye

i woke up at 8:am, free

I think he likes me

he was looking at me like he wanted to eat me

Hans Christian Anderson wrote this:

and when it boiled the sound was like the sound of crocodiles weeping

in the middle of the war on terror

and the war in iraq for weapons of mass destruction

and operation new dawn

that color really washes you out