summer of 2003 ( Read more... )

I really do enjoy the stale smell of cigarettes.

There's ghosts at the local laundromat.

me: this is going to be my first baseball game.
peter: you've never been to a baseball game?? oh no wait, they don't have baseball in china.

i miss my friends. alex, andy, max, bento, matt jones: my besties whom i've seen very little of this summer.

Stale like bread sometimes.

I need romance.

Fall has finally graced San Francisco with its nip and nostalgia. I swear, with every gust of wind comes a new childhood memory from past falls. And the smell...goddamn this is by far the best season out of the 4.

and now...

Eerie

Nicaraguans

love Emerald's Nuts!

Bourbon balls? Sounds about right.

andy: like a happy boyfriend

I peed twice next to a tree near a playground. I drank champange right next the slides. And I ashed my cigarette onto the kiddie fireman's pole. I have desecrated the sacred grounds on which innocence and purity roam. And I don't feel the least bit guilty about it. Talking about dreams and Lindsay's trip to Brazil has made it all worthwhile ( Read more... )

Sometimes I get the feeling that the sun doesn't always want to come out at the break of dawn.  I say we let it sleep until 2 in the afternoon every now and then.

Last weekend has worn me out.  It was all really a haze except the part where I was sitting in the international terminal of the San Francisco airport crying.  People would pass by and I ( Read more... )

seeing max right after getting off the bus almost made me cry.