when one feels violent one rents fight club. smacks of sweating skin meeting gray concrete, leaving behind a residue of ruddied human cells.
give me an interesting angle to write about, brain and conversed feet. hamlet rests beside me in a closed book. and i draw a blank.
nothing that interesting has happened this weekend. we watched the movie in as pitch black as a house can be so the images of the story flashed not only in our eyes but also off the the furniture and picture frames. i lay on the couch parallel to the television and ben and micheal lay on the ground parallel to the television and each other. it made me slightly lonely but i figured i was lucky. at least my ideal boyfriend would not fall asleep during fight club and interupt us wth snoring.
i talked to travis last night. enough said there, i think. i guess i could add that he made me smile lots while i sat in the chair in front of the screen.
i wished again last night, at eleven eleven.
this morning the sun woke me up as we sat outdoors at a worn picnic table. pineapple orange juice with today as its' expiration date. even if i die , the fruitiness mixed with crispness of the outdoors breeze was worth it.
currently spinning: rahzel: if your mother only knew