i will think with keys...
my loot is on the coffee table. and i love david sedaris, mcsweeney's thirteen and my hot pink purse among other things.
my mouth has that candy taste in it.
a cold elbow and a peeking belly button.
i bet when i get my first real paycheck, years in the future from now, i will go buy all the cool things i sat day dreaming over for weeks and never bought b/c it seemed unjustified. see: cds, fancy shoes, cozy blankets, dvds, pretty lady shirts and cuddly sweaters for nickers. i can make my own furniture and keep it minimal.
hard cover books are weighty in a good way.
it's quiet in the house and i wish real things were happening.
lime green, gray teal, deep orange and cranberry crimson. what's up, future home?
why am i so in love with india and mexico? i'm such a white person.
audrey audrey audrey.
i like the spray paint drips and the way wheatpaste drips onto my jeans and the way you make it feel like junior high all over again in a good way.
yo, i want to have fun forever. foooorrreeeeeeverrrr.
fuck it fuck it.
pretty mountains and tasty shrimp. yeah shrimp.
i think we may end up in chicage and i'll freeze my royal ass in a sweet peacoat.
dc and the metro and my sugar and his cat and taking the world on like a mother fuckin super hero. hearts!
i wish i could wear my new mittens and type at the same time.
i like the bread.
dinner last night was delicious as i warmed my hand on the candle. i love the meatloaf and cheese soup and taters and gween beans and marscapone cheesecake. mmmmm.


i miss my lovey and photo shoots in the alley.
i tried learning to knit, but alas it was too complicated..for now.
i sung canned heat at karaoke and wig in a box and bohemian rhapsody and did a solo time after time and sung butterfly with my sister and it was lovely fun b/c i danced and belted and lost my voice. rockin hard. yesss.
hot cocoa and talking to my honey in the north.
hands buried in pockets and a scarf wrapped around my neck which will soon be kissed and loved. countdown two and a half days.
i wish i had my bone folder when i was wrapping gifts and it was then that i felt truly nerdy.
my hair is long, but not riding on horses bareback long. that's far too hippie.
man, i totally want some brekky tacos.
the cold is creeping under my blanket.
i like reading when i get too anxious to see what happens or i'm excited or i know what's going to happen and i can't read so i end up skimming the page and get frusterated and have to put the book down b/c it's just too much.
it is cold outside and i hope santa claus comes tonight after i fill myself up with dinner and make my annual trip to church to sing and jingle bells and watch all the pretty lights. it's the little baby jesus' birthday tomorrow.


everything is red from the sun and i am with slightly puckered lips looking out the window. my stomach is flat and empty and sometimes i think my eyes are big. i wish you were here next to me and we were somewhere else away and out of here. i miss you.
i like building with lincoln logs. and cookies with raspberry and chocolate are yummy. i miss nickers.


clementines are tasty!
i tried gently blowing onto a baby's face as mcsweeney's had suggested. the baby liked it. he smiled as the soft breezes blew his downy hair and drooled just a little bit more than usual.
p.s. i forgot to add that at one point, i used a handheld manual balloon pump to blow on his face. i was trying to figure out what it was when i accidently blew it towards myself. seeing this as an opportunity, i turned the nozzle towards him. he seemed to enjoy that, too. so much in fact, that he pulled it towards his mouth with his little baby hands and slobbered all over it as the air blew into his mouth. then he tried to blow back. it was pretty darn funny.


driving in rusted cars and listening to hip hop from a few years ago.
my stomach hurts a bit. i hate to eat in the morning.
i want some matted lavender and golden sunshine with my coffee.
yellow autumn leaves are floating falling like butterflies and ash from the fireplace.
india where are you?
i miss my minnesota.
piano twinkles an endless echo.
what is like honey? those golden cello melodies like my golden boy.
solid metal text i coat with ink and run the machine over and over to indent into paper. i wore a denim apron with my hair pulled back and up and away from my face. my fingers muddied and streaked.
cinnamon gelato and christmas songs played around painted dots. i make faces at christa and natalie and i giggle profusely.
i miss you, my dear, i miss you.
cliched paper crinkling as i pull the paper into points and tape it shut.


my library books still need to be returned. i think they're overdue.
i miss my darling and what we do in the winter. ie stay warm with cuddles and fuzzy sweaters and hiding under the covers.
it's so so hard. i want to wake up with him beside me and to hold hands and ride bikes and be lazy on sunday mornings while we listen to this american life and he holds me closer tighter.
speaking of which, two things. one, i want to ride my bike and two, i just ate a tasty sausage.
when i was little i used to want one of those really long stocking caps.


cobra cobra cobra
my boyfriend is a hottie.
late night pixelfests are over for the semester. sighs of relief pour out of me after angered uncensored critique of an epitome of assholeness, horse races and telling tales to all the people i love. trudy's, your eighties vice decorum and early nineties club music make me puke, yet something is endearing in the way i am recalling fond memories of the rollerskating rink.
real cocoa and longing for nicktea.
scissor sisters my love.
what has been happening, i dunno. life has finally begun again.
handwritten notes on my palm.
mates of state drop and anchor me and nick.
the tiny personal sized dance club in which a "california dreamin" club remix ripped into our hearts. we ate bananas, got bitten by the cobra and watched the airplanes crash.
i doodled hearts in my notebook with you in mind. in poorly phrased french ma coeur est votre.
sea food chowder in a bread bowl before the science museum. feeding birds from my hand in the park and turkey shaped cookies as we hold hands on the walk home.
i want little beaded slippers and soft cozy shirts and you lying next to me rather than just the smell buried deep inside the shirt you left behind the time we watched bruno chase leaves and purr loudly.
cheese scones are yummy.
what book am i to read now that my bed is empty and my thoughts are not occupied by pen tools, vectors, layout and color (as much)?
do the helvetica! rosewood futura represent! font snob for life.
i can smell the stargazers.
my first kitchen set is teal and white.
cows came out when the sun did and grazed quietly by the roadside.
dear larry speck
i heart architecture
i miss carrying my camera around everywhere. wha happened?
graffiti and stencils and wheatpasting.
wolfie wolfie wolfie.