October 2010
today was shitty.
far too stoned for my own good. back at home, in my room. missy is eating catnip, and i’m searching for the meaning of life. laundry is tumblin’ in the dryer. until then, i will go get ice cream and write a story on my fridge with alphamags. over and out.
September 2010
this evening.
this is what i want to do: paint, barefoot, until the early morning.
this is what im going to do: go get maria’s, and do homework until i pass out.
“alright its six o’clock! the bells are tollin’, i gotta smoke, i gotta trace!”
get out of my head. get out of my head. get out.
"hey, remember last night, when i stood up, and...
mac n cheese and hours of homework. goodbye.
thursday september 30th @ 4:45.
selfish and inconsiderate.
notebook day.
rain. penguin hat. jacob’s shirt. notebook and pen. marijuana. incense. the boston phoenix. daniela’s titty tat. soup and grilled cheese.
getting drunk on the porch. this could be the last...
i wonder if you miss those days as much as i do.
“Funny coincidence. I just got back from Portland Maine, visiting my...”
– George Thompson, my humanities teacher.
I made a mistake and I never forgot I tied knots in the laces of My worried shoes And with every step that I’d take I’d remember my mistake As I marched further and further away In my worried shoes
1620.
downtown plymouth was quiet today, i turned onto Court Street looking for signs of life.
two coffee’s from Kiskadees. peru blend, and then carmel nut. both with cream and sugar, hot. and an M&M cookie on the side, please.
a slice of Upper Crust cheese, one slice is all you need.
spent my day in Lucy Grealy’s mind, finally on the last chapter.
and then its time to write the...
currently:
sitting in the hospital, trying to control my laughter.
my father got bit in the balls by a spider.
this is a fucking comedy show.
i almost feel bad, almost.
smoking with my cat. later, alligator.
Blue Blinds Bakery.
sitting here, at my usual table in the bakery. i got tomato soup and hibiscus tea, of course.
i wish you were here with me like the good old days. i miss coming in here stinkin’ like marijuana at three in the morning to get tea with you. i spent my best summer in this bakery, just about every night. the good old days..
