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They are lettering material and I am composing tarmac. Hell yes, I find irresistibleness with girls. No, I'm not lesbian; I'm straight as the yardstick he slapped me with when I told him I thought he smelled bizarre. There were boys with boy effects and boy language and boy procedures and I enjoyed them. Boy odor, boy chortle, and boy smirk. I enjoyed those six months-- "the boy months of 2008"

here is no girl I'm in love with--I just think they're pretty, is all. Women have a way with articulation, with imagery, and splendor like never understood by men. Men try to inscribe it, but Shakespeare hadn't an accommodating inkling. He never met the incomparable Anna Gaca.

Out of six-hundred twenty-five-- three-hundred forty-two actually reveal being in love with female counterparts. This is not a suggestion. This is unpolluted happenstance because I am not in love with a girl and I will marry when I grow up---not to a girl. Well, maybe if a girl was ever like the girl I met in Chicago. It's peculiar...she's not even the same girl as back in July. Or at least, in my mentality, she's dissimilar. Pedestal, pedostool, either way, she's up there, but that doesn't mean I'm in love with her! Boys are adequate for now, thank-you.
But one day---NO. I am not in love with girls, I have a high regard for their tenderness. I just emulate the untainted delicateness, the general elegant curse they plant into everything around them. Girls are just pleasing, no matter what, and they always will appeal to me, but I am not in love with girls!

I dreamt I walked athwart Lake Michigan, but Michigan wasn't on the other side, Los Angeles was, and I was pissed for trying to contact Chicago and failing epically. Like I said; the distinction between concrete and asphalt, the peak of stairs in a six-story building. Word, you’re killing me. You’re piercing and sharpening and making it bleed. These jade underlines and scarlet squiggly lines are driving me insane. I heard that word is valued. I agree. But how long until they get that way? They can’t just go on the page and instantly they are magically precious. There has to be something—an incantation, maybe? So something I’m missing. If you figure it out, call me Al. I’ll be at the bottom of lake Michigan, holding onto the oxygen tank for dear life, and still searching for the Emerald City underwater.

It’s an ornery day full of strange occurrences, so please excuse the sheer mariahness of a covert operation.

Sour skittles

I now have three feet and the balls to say that crocs are the ugliest shoe-thing to ever have been produced, I hate them like I hate your smile, your nose-twitching, and your ability to make me laugh when I'm about to kill a man, or woman, or whichever is more convenient, really.

That felt nice to scrape off my tongue. "He hasn't got taste buds yet, silly," she giggled, and I just sat to pout for an extra hour while the kid was changed, fed, and burped. I wish I was given that much attention for crying and bitching about life.

I had one shot, one chance, one opportunity, to seize everything I ever wanted. I tried to capture it, but I let it slip. I filled out an early decision application (the one where you check saying that if you get accepted you will go no matter what) to the WRONG college. In my defense, it has the same name, but a different location, address, symbol, etc.

I meant it for Columbia College Chicago.
it went to Columbia College in South Carolina...

...This is why you need a prescription for the dosage of Oxy i swallowed before my shift.
It isn't outrageous, I swear, though I wish it were so maybe for once I could obtain your level of perception, just once.

My list of girls I gave you? was false because you are number one and always will be no matter what and who I meet.
you will be graceful in the mind of mariah. Always.

And in a perfect world, Krystal would be my best friend, I would be at Bishop Moore, but Anna and I would be planning to move in together in chicago at columbia once the semester started. and Krystal would visit, and I would visit her in whatever college she decided on, i guess. the future is all too murky where i swim, and the alternative universes are driving my brain inside itself. cor.

Did you know that i'm doing all of this stuff to end up in your blog? but i dont.
and i wont.

The curtain called, I'm out.