The hardest letter in the alphabet
to find in a clothing department is D. 36D. It's always colored pink and on the bottom rack, where people put things they are too lazy
My watch fogged up during the hard rains today. I learned two things from the rain today. When you run out to find that your window has been down for the last 15 minutes of downpour, you should not sit down without grabbing some plastic or a towel or something. And, if you should have a spare change of clothes at work (as I always do) it is pretty meaningless if you don't have a dry pair of underpants. Hence my temporary nickname, pickle butt.
Pink Floyd makes me wish, albeit sporadically and halfheartedly, that I still smoked pot.
Shmuel's dad Ralston was at me all today to commit to reading some poetry at some coffee shop when I arrive in Grand Rapids this weekend. I wonder if I really am afraid of making an ass out of myself, but deep down I'm determined to convince myself that it's just not something I want to do.
I want to buy a bike. I want to feel the wind moving faster than it does for walking people.
I spent $125 today at Wal Mart on clothes and toiletries I need for Cornerstone. Maggie said that you run into people there that you never think you'd see there. I wonder if I'll see Chris Patton there, the guy who once had FAMOUS WRITER tattooed on his chest, only to get in covered up my a thick barred cross in the back of a nail salon in the suburbs of New Orleans.
Someone once told me that a foot of shit per day was the sign of a healthy digestive system. Again I am below average. Heh.
I am wondering what I can do to get you people to call the number on the he said, she said web site that's on my home node. What would it take you to call me, even. One noder called to tell me something he wanted to say out loud but didn't want to discuss with anyone, so he called me. What about you? You have anything to confess?