we drew outside today. and i got grass down my pants. i can't draw so i mingled between what they would see and what i wanted to sketch. i traced my outline from the sun with a thin piece of compressed charcoal and sat back to admire my work and think some about the music and the people and the sky with it's fading moon and bright blue. i don't want to draw. i like it better when the wind is rustling the paper into triangles. my hair is falling out of the bun i threw together in a ten minute perusal of the closet, the bathroom and the morning. my vision is still blurred as i start down the hill.
stank-o and i call each oter on the phone and talk about babies and a-holes and how much we want to marry david sedaris and beck.