8:08 p.m. x 2003-11-20

that was the cutest, realist thing i've experienced in i don't know how long. the honesty and bumbling akwardness of unmuddied hormonal adorability, and the perspective of an individual alarmingly like myself, more so than many others that i've met, in attitude, compassion, and complexity. and most of all in sense of humor. thank you paul, for being my twin.

and now, a poem by a dead individual.

i felt a funeral in my brain
and mourners to and fro
kept treading treading till it seemed
that sense was breaking through
and when they were all seated
a service like a drum
kept beating beating till i thought
my mind was going numb
and then i heard them lift a box
and creak across my soul
with those same boots of lead again
the space began to toll
as all the heavens were a bell
and being but an ear
and i and silence some strange race
wrecked solitary here -- emily dickinson

if anybody should ask i'm going to a seminar
pieces of the moon
JOBJOBJOB
interviewinterviewinterview
sensitive heart, you're doomed from the start
(& etc)