Do you remember that public service ad that used to run where the kid comes running into his room smiling and his dad is standing by the bed with a little gray box in his hands and the kid stops suddenly and looks worried and the dad looks at him and starts yelling "where did you learn to do this? Who taught you?" and there is this tense moment ( Read more... )

Today I went to a job interview with vomit on my shoes.

My life unravels everyday at two in the morning, spreading its arms like a desert plant after the sun is gone. It is not my policy to use such similes. Sometimes it just happens. I want to look people in the eye and watch them fall in love with me and walk away to green places knowing that I will never hurt them. I want to paint pictures of ( Read more... )

Dylan Thomas is a beautiful man, even lying here dead on the oakwood of my desk. Dead for fifty years, and still beautiful. Pale milky skin and tight brown curls. I don't really want to cut him open, but Juan says I have to. Juan is Chilean and apparently predisposed toward this sort of thing. Disecting Dylan Thomas proved tricky. My tools ( Read more... )

Hi. Welcome to my livejournal ( Read more... )