My roommate breathes in heavy and I cut his meat and he says, "good dog" and I tell him to shut up and he tells me he was joking and I tell him meat is disgusting and feed it to his mouth, which is wet, for the most part we get along now ( Read more... )

Sometimes I dream about this boy in Modest Mouse, the one with hand tattoos, and I wake up all wet.

Thursday, May 26th- Seattle, Wash.-

It's hailing, little pieces of ice hurt when thrown down- hitting me.

Sometimes I feel like dust left from crumbling weak stones, powdery and weak, weighted down in position but blowing away. I love my sister. I like some other people. I want to wrap myself around a boy, but I am insecure about him. I don't have a phone because I could not pay the bill on time. I like it when slow songs build and build and at the end ( Read more... )

In a rut like a dust ditch, but I will be back on the road soon enough. There are good things happening.

Breathing warm breath (his) and tickling. Quite unrelated, I am feeling very ill.

Weekend Goal: Not go out, not put on pants.

Dial numbers, Mr. Schwarzenegger.

The handle detaches from the broom head and jabs me in the face.