we bounced and moved to the roots last night. some scratchin and rapping through flashing lights. everyone was too close together especially with notone mcdumbass standing behind us. but it was hot to move and shake down with ben and nat. apparently i should be a stripper.
i sat out on the bench last night listening to your voice which was oh so good to hear again. the clock's hands changed quickly.
i'm in close correspondance with a boy who asks me what type of cloud is my favorite and tells me of tim burton's low point. wilderness firefighting and laying down drum tracks. it's ridiculous how much a letter can mean. the weather's been nice and i've been looking at the clouds more.
we dance to some europop with the blinds closed and practice our moves and i think you're jealous that you can't look through our inverted peephole.
my foot isn't quite as broken.
liz and nat and i laughed hysterically about random shit on the way back from dinner. ex latrasha and milton.
the sun filters through the blinds and patterns onto the blanket and the floor. i woke up three times. the dream kept it too weird to go back to sleep.
i followed pencil lines on a piece of wood with the jigsaw and sanded by hand every inch.
the little kids next door bought my water guns and chased each other around squirting.