"can i go in here and brush my teeth"?

- no, it's locked.

"okay".

yeah, so last night's events took us to a a a a a a a twilight zone, and in that parallel universe underlies a hidden crux leading me to believe in backwards mental intercourse.

there was a band. two. and then the rap duo. spit. lots of spit. a spit fight. me and the rapper. there was dancing again. hot men in red pants. there were agonizing times of panty showing and breast upheaval. 'creep show'. strawberry flavored joints shared with respectable historic love object. a question that made me want to tell her all. i did. dreams of a boy i know being a closet mass murderer. a box on top of a mantel filled with mushroom caps and that gross dusty residue that comes with it. cops. lots of cops. a field. who's on who's side?

this morning: french toast, emily, and my cat.

today i am wanting the single best thing in the whole world: a convertible driven trip to the coffee shop with my buddy and my journal. a pack of smokes. a skirt. kinky hair. it is 1:35 pm on a saturday in august, and i am greatful.

where are my friends? hans gets back this week. aaron? he is still gone. he won't be coming back. ho hum.