i honestly don't think i can honestly write anymore. it's all become filtered, watered down versions of the truth if not the truth being omitted altogether. perhaps that is best; this is best, keeping these things to myself, miserably watching sincerity bang itself at the four corners of release. anyways, it's so unclear, a mystery even unto me, it's creator.
i noticed the other day down at the lake this enormous pile of driftwood tittering on the cusp of the spill way. i wondered how long it would take for the conditions of the water level to push them over the edge- for them to then float down the waterfall and onto the bank below. i wondered if the driftwood would prefer the titter to possible abandonment, anyways.
oh, fffccckkk it all.
today is my mothers birthday. that is if today is still the 14th. otherwise, it's rachels. the happiest for the best i hope.
i'm listening to i am kloot. hey, it was there and i'm tired if not a tad bit drunk. my bed is covered with crap: a jacket, wrapping paper, a pen, a present, the phone, a pair of slacks, and leg warmers. i'm too tired to put any of it up and i'm too tired to take out my contacts.
this morning i went to a birthday brunch at terrillis. "h" was there. it had been so long, and so brief, since we had seen each other that he took the first ten minuets gawking over me without my glasses. sigh. i know this is the way it should be- but damn if i didn't wish we could be friends like we once were. life changes, things change, and that's cool. just sometimes, just some mornings when your enjoying that other person's company, remembering how much fun it was when the both of you would hang out together, well, it sucks and you wish with all your heart for that idealistic world that you despise other people for believing and acting in.