readme.

gravel sighs burnt skin regrets exhaust fog slush dirt distorted homeless cold wrapped fall apart blinking tears fragile ugly escape picking scabs self-destruction slip away i can't sleep at night, and the days are too hot

Last night I was terribly bored, and I took a bus downtown at 10pm. I got off a couple stops before my destination. It was a clear night, warm, filled with drunk revelers.

"Seattle's old, I need a new city."
"Could I have a cigarette?"
"You have a beautiful smile."

head down. ignore everyone.
Ten blocks later I was at his old apartment, hoping he'd be there as I was unable to contact him despite my persistent (I'm ashamed to admit: incessant!) telephone calls. I look to the balcony, lights off, apartment empty. For a second I consider taking the bus straight back to the west but I finger my pockets for the key and I go in, through the lobby that smells of oranges and citrus and onto the elevator, into apartment #116. The fridge is empty except for one egg, three sticks of butter, water, four bottles of heineken, five bottles of alaskan pale ale, two opened and mostly-full budweiser 16oz cans and a can of bud light which will be there forever, probably.

I drank all the green bottles, listened to music, read magazines, and made a box of stuffing before falling into a restless sleep!

I woke up to a cold grey morning. Paint under bridges until the clouds burn off. I walked to the Center, played bass for a minute in EMP before and settling down in the Center House, a school / food court. I saw my homeless friend Tarique from New Orleans, this old black dude who always looks like he's on downers. I walked back to Second and Lenora. It started raining. I was soaking wet and shivering by the time I got back to West Seattle.

It was a great night. We went to IHOP for breakfast and made fun of everyone there.

So everyone has been having their share of shit luck lately, and I've remained unscathed yet fearful of when the karmic death wave would hit me as well...

Here I am in my pajamas in front of a laptop, eating a pint of Butterfinger ice cream (this helps with stress, I read it somewhere... or saw it on vhs from my mom's romantic comedy collection, I'm not too sure) telling you that the day has come!
I have to do stuff right now augh I am so stressed man.

I sent out that video game package today. After that I walked to Starbucks and got a caramel frappuccino. Then, I left that Starbucks to sit in the other Starbucks in Barnes & Noble to read "How To Please My Man" in the recent issue of Cosmopolitan, which wasn't nearly as entertaining as the embarrassing stories (... I got a kama sutra book as a birthday gift from my boyfriend... naked... whipped cream... his mom walked in) ...elipses.

I'm becoming domesticated. We spend hours washing and folding laundry or vacuuming patterns into the carpet. I guess it's sad that I'm drifting away from my gore-metal, puking-in-toilet days, but I've grown bored with the scene here, the music and especially the people.