do i have smash it up, b/c i really want to hear it. i don't like showers slash baths anymore, i'm down with being dirty quite frankly. i think that's the only bad influence you ever had on me. stank-o and i made pretty necklaces with brown leather cord and cheap hobby lobby scarab beads. ben told me to proudly walk over and introduce myself as poo...poo nanny. i'm thinking about doing it.
i like to compliment your outline in the dark and in the soft light of a forty watt bulb. last night it felt good for my cold skin to be pressed onto your hot body. a cold hand holding a warm one. every inch, freckled back as your abdomen rises with every intake of air. you're so fucking beautiful as i quote what i wrote.
we still had the table lamp on when i started watching you sleep. i used my fingers as eyes when the lights were off. i want to remember every inch of your body and the curve of your freckled back and the circumference of your giant nostrils. we could have had sex last night but i didn't want you to regret it in the morning. i know you well enough to know that would be a possibility. i could have but i was doing it to remember you. that's why i kissed you and climbed on top of you, so i could make it all unique to you.
life's woes. frankly, i think it was one of the best emails i've ever written.
i kissed your forehead and your cheek, your lips and your chest to kiss your heart last night. you were silouetted by the outside lights, the car headlights, the moon and stars peeking through city fog and you were beautiful. and i caressed your face with a whispered goodnight.
it's an andrew wk (my secret acid wash jeans lover) and brian eno by this river day.
if any of my friends become truckers, i want to come along for the ride. i wish ali was free for the afternoon so we could get sweet bubble tea at momoko. it's not the same without a friend. i would have stayed if you had wanted me, too. i vote the phone call i got three minutes ago was the best phone call i ever got. my dirty shorts are actually clean and in the laundry so now i can take these pants off and not be hot as tittyfucks. i also vote being frank equals badass good times.
ben and i spent countless dollars on photobooth pictures. bivert, duck's auto shop and mugs that would make your mother cry are the paramount of girl power: show sold out. when he hears beck croon on mutations, he'll think of me.
well, back to being a statistic in the statistics game of lazy american teenagers.