somehow, somewhere, i'll survive.
---
i'm sitting and watching the two of them on the bench, both of them talking to me about lives and realities i can only understand because i know him.
i know her too, if only because she is so like him. so similar.
i look at him with his head in her lap and they are both talking to me. but he really doesn't know what he is saying to me because he is drunk and staring into her eyes looking at me. he denies feelings because of the lack of control he has on the future.
their future is already in the past tense. always a "remember when".
always a "could have been".
---
earlier i remember saying nothing because there were no words to say.
no, i do know what i should have said but whatever unraveling i need to do would tear me apart at the seams, and knowing this i say nothing.
---
we are sitting, saying all this stupid shit to one another and everything just flows. one event to the next, we are chatting about futures and pasts.
that time at the downtown disney amc, or earlier. eighth grade. seventh.
six, fifth, forth.
it's been so long, and i know him more than anyone.
but now reminiscencing, i feel i know him on another plain of his reality.
---
hours later, "what happened?"
"nothing," is all i say and walk away. "you two a great for each other, you know that right?"
"yes." he says, but doesn't see.
and she looks at him, at me, and asks, "why do you think that?"
and i look at her, and say, "once he told me that he was happy with [her]. i believed him, but didn't understand. now? it's a lie. he is happy now."
he had put his head on her lap moments before, and now, with his eyes closed, he says drunkenly, "yeah."
and i say, "see."
---
the lights in front of my third grade classroom mean nothing to me, and the memories have faded.
like old pictures in magazines, the pages have yellowed and the colors are fading to a shade of grey.
undefined.
---
in all the silence, there is no place for whispered hopes.
---
she is dropping me off at my house, he is asleep or passed out. and she asks me, "what really happened?"
and i look down at him, smile sadly, and say, "he didn't tell you?"
"well, you said 'nothing' " she says. her car is idling and the radio is playing a song i don't hear. i look back into her eyes.
"yeah, nothing. but nothing is what will happen to the two of you. i don't mean that in a bad way," she is looking at me trying to decipher whatever words are passing for this conversation. "he knows that something happened because he knows nothing happened. he knows that nothing is what he will have when you leave." again i smile sadly, "you know what i think he loves about you?"
and she smiles back, "no."
"you understand him," i say, "but you will leave. and he will be with christie. like he is now."
"yeah," she looks away slightly. "i'll leave, and then things will go back..."
i cut her off and grab her hand, "you know, you have time with him. i really think that time is what he needs. even if it is only the next two weeks, only the next few hours. you're making him more. more than i think he cares to admit."
she looks back at me, and says. "he was worried about you tonight."
"did he tell you why?" i ask.
"he says you're never happy. he says that when you learn something you become sad. like there is no mystery in that subject anymore" she is looking down at him, and i drop her hand unto his.
"tonight," i say, thinking, "tonight was what it was. i'll move ahead, past the fact i drink again. but i am not sad. what andrew is worried about i think is that. the fact that i may not have been sad."
she looks at me for the last time that night, "that's what i told him."
---
the last thing i say is, "don't question the next two weeks, don't hold back because of her. questioning it would be making it into less than it obviously is."
and she smiles once more, "okay."
and i smile, say goodnight and step out into the light of the night.
---
somehow, somewhere, they'll survive.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Rockie
you know, every time i sit here, in front of this glowing screen in this dark room, i find myself writing to a future self.
i find myself leaving little hints about what goes right, what has gone wrong, and what is stuck in neutral when the world is in drive.
---
my first post in my pry, to blog i wrote why i was having certain people read all the non-sense i was posting. all the insane ramblings from a sane (or nearly) person.
rockie, i wrote about you:
"The second person is new to me. My way of thinking. But that's okay. For whatever reason I trust you more than I trust most people, and I still have no idea why. But I'm comfortable with it now, and have been. But I never see you, so... I haven't been able to tell you that. I'm not going to say anything else, but thank you. Don't ask why, just... thank you. Although you're somewhat creepy."
i find myself leaving little hints about what goes right, what has gone wrong, and what is stuck in neutral when the world is in drive.
---
my first post in my pry, to blog i wrote why i was having certain people read all the non-sense i was posting. all the insane ramblings from a sane (or nearly) person.
rockie, i wrote about you:
i still stand by this. we never talk anymore for some reason, but i wish we were not losing touch. that little paragraph was written nearly two years ago now, and all i can think of is still how much it meant that you understood me. that i had someone to trust.
i said i didn't understand you. and i think i know why. i know you wanted to know this, so i wanted to know you would, hence the posting of it here. but i think it's not what you think it is.
i am not going to go off on you, or say anything about how you're tired of asking people what you are doing.
i care about those things, but i feel it is not my place to say anything.
instead, my lack of understanding lies in something you said to me awhile ago... or emailed me. you asked me if i was okay. this was over a year ago, and it meant a lot. not because you asked, but because you were the only one to ask. even andrew didn't, even when he knew something was up.
you asked me, "are you okay?"
that's it. you didn't ask what was wrong, nor did you demand of me to tell you. but you asked. you asked if i was okay because you knew i wasn't.
so i read all the blogs you have been writing, and even without hearing anything from you i worry. i worry because i don't want you to feel your life is wasting away. i don't want you to feel that you are failing at anything.
you do feel that way i think. your just enough like me where i think i know.
and that's what i don't understand. why don't we talk? for whatever reason i think that we could help one another because of our similarities.
maybe this is all sounding like complete bullshit.
i don't understand you because i understand myself.
i think awhile ago you were somewhat worried that i would say that i was in love with you. i am not rockie, but i do love you.
truly.
even without words passing between us, even as we drift apart for reasons i can't really define nor give reasons to, i love you.
and i am here for you.
even through the silence.
Momentary Recognition (Pry, to)
you were standing.
leaning. waiting.
for something, someone.
i knew you once. long ago.
and standing there, across the room. across the invisible distance of time. i wonder.
wonder if you would remember that time.
or that time.
times i have forgot.
times i have forgave.
those i haven't.
you're leaning against the wall. smoking.
american spirits.
the only cigarette that still tastes good.
i watch. wait. some song is playing in the backround.
i don't know the name, just that it's hand has been overplayed.
leaning. standing. you glance over.
and for a second. split second.
calculated. reduced. and divided.
i see the recognition. i see the judgment.
one night.
one night and it was all washed away.
i remember saying. saying.
that i can't find a feeling i buried long ago.
i remember saying, that i don't have an answer.
and that i would rather be alone then feel alone.
i see your momentary recognition. i see that green flash in your eyes, so like hers. so like mine. so like no one i remember.
i remember saying i can't trust another. that it's easier to hide.
i think, looking at you leaning. we're staring at one another from across the room now.
you look. i look.
memories are passed without words.
voices that were silent for so long, i realize, are not gone.
i remember the tears we never cried.
i think as i turn around.
think. one night. one night.
one night.
one night.
i think.
one night.
i think
if i could change the future, i would change the past instead.
leaning. waiting.
for something, someone.
i knew you once. long ago.
and standing there, across the room. across the invisible distance of time. i wonder.
wonder if you would remember that time.
or that time.
times i have forgot.
times i have forgave.
those i haven't.
you're leaning against the wall. smoking.
american spirits.
the only cigarette that still tastes good.
i watch. wait. some song is playing in the backround.
i don't know the name, just that it's hand has been overplayed.
leaning. standing. you glance over.
and for a second. split second.
calculated. reduced. and divided.
i see the recognition. i see the judgment.
one night.
one night and it was all washed away.
i remember saying. saying.
that i can't find a feeling i buried long ago.
i remember saying, that i don't have an answer.
and that i would rather be alone then feel alone.
i see your momentary recognition. i see that green flash in your eyes, so like hers. so like mine. so like no one i remember.
i remember saying i can't trust another. that it's easier to hide.
i think, looking at you leaning. we're staring at one another from across the room now.
you look. i look.
memories are passed without words.
voices that were silent for so long, i realize, are not gone.
i remember the tears we never cried.
i think as i turn around.
think. one night. one night.
one night.
one night.
i think.
one night.
i think
if i could change the future, i would change the past instead.
Friday, July 17, 2009
"Did You Feel You Were Tricked..."
"...by the future you picked?"
i am sitting here, reading something and wondering about you. really wondering about what you believe. what i believe, and if either of those things matter in the least.
it is one of those moments where i am realizing that what i thought was pointless is not, but what i thought was worthwhile is pointless.
if not meaningless.
the pursuit is what is starting to matter though.
the knowledge that there is something to gain in the knowledge.
the hope that there is knowledge to be gained in the first place.
do you have hope anymore? are you okay?
i am sitting here, reading something and wondering about you. really wondering about what you believe. what i believe, and if either of those things matter in the least.
it is one of those moments where i am realizing that what i thought was pointless is not, but what i thought was worthwhile is pointless.
if not meaningless.
the pursuit is what is starting to matter though.
the knowledge that there is something to gain in the knowledge.
the hope that there is knowledge to be gained in the first place.
do you have hope anymore? are you okay?
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Love is Madness
"there is always some madness in love. but there is also always some reason in madness"
-nietzsche
"love is a devil"
-shakespeare
---
"i love you," she says. tears are flowing like streams down her cheek, and i know that the lie i am about to tell is my only way out of the hole i have dug to the center of this little tear in the universe.
"i love you too," but, again, it is a lie. this affair holds no love. it is just a rip in my current reality. a selfish escape from my day-to-day. love, i think, is useless here.
---
it's hard to imagine where all this began. this idea that i have two loves. always one hand to hold. always one heart to break upon the rocks.
but i think looking into her eyes (lie), this is my destiny.
she says, "do you love me?"
"yes," i say. this time, years later it is truth.
---
distance is a killer of understanding. the further away the less you have to share with another person. the less you have to share, the less you have to know.
---
i remember hearing a song that meant love only to know it meant nothing when she was no longer around.
---
"what do i think of love." i say, repeating her question as a statement of my own. i know exactly how to answer this question, it is rehearsed. it is on the tip of my tongue, but i can't bring myself to answer truthfully and i say, "i don't know."
it is an easy way out, but thinking about it now, it's also a killer of time that could be had.
---
she is kissing me and it is the best experience of my life. it's perfect.
passionate, yet fully intimate.
it is the first time i understand just how important the act is, it is the first time i feel that love is more than words. that it can be more than soft compassion.
---
time ticks by. i know that i am running out of any remaining sand in the hourglass in my mind.
slowly it's draining.
slowly i am drifting.
---
she said to me over the phone, "i think we should see other people."
i smiled, and sarcastically, i said, "look around. they're every where."
---
love is madness.
---
everyday i think of three people. one who knows i love. one who used to know, but at this point wants me dead. one who lives in the dark.
i can't say what love is. because it is no singular emotion. it is a chameleon, taking on different shapes to fit the people of our lives into what we see them as.
on one hand it is the person we are balanced with, the "yin to my yang" scenario.
then there is the love that you passed up on. the one who broke your heart, or the one you left abandoned on the side of the road screaming your name in sadness or despair but still filled with a misunderstood love.
and always, there is the one who you love but cannot be in love with because of so many under(lying) reasons. the one who is perfect for you in understanding. or by definition.
but love, for me doesn't fit into a box. it's is not pandora's little chest of curiosities.
i know what love means to me.
---
it is life.
--
it is infinite
-nietzsche
"love is a devil"
-shakespeare
---
"i love you," she says. tears are flowing like streams down her cheek, and i know that the lie i am about to tell is my only way out of the hole i have dug to the center of this little tear in the universe.
"i love you too," but, again, it is a lie. this affair holds no love. it is just a rip in my current reality. a selfish escape from my day-to-day. love, i think, is useless here.
---
it's hard to imagine where all this began. this idea that i have two loves. always one hand to hold. always one heart to break upon the rocks.
but i think looking into her eyes (lie), this is my destiny.
she says, "do you love me?"
"yes," i say. this time, years later it is truth.
---
distance is a killer of understanding. the further away the less you have to share with another person. the less you have to share, the less you have to know.
---
i remember hearing a song that meant love only to know it meant nothing when she was no longer around.
---
"what do i think of love." i say, repeating her question as a statement of my own. i know exactly how to answer this question, it is rehearsed. it is on the tip of my tongue, but i can't bring myself to answer truthfully and i say, "i don't know."
it is an easy way out, but thinking about it now, it's also a killer of time that could be had.
---
she is kissing me and it is the best experience of my life. it's perfect.
passionate, yet fully intimate.
it is the first time i understand just how important the act is, it is the first time i feel that love is more than words. that it can be more than soft compassion.
---
time ticks by. i know that i am running out of any remaining sand in the hourglass in my mind.
slowly it's draining.
slowly i am drifting.
---
she said to me over the phone, "i think we should see other people."
i smiled, and sarcastically, i said, "look around. they're every where."
---
love is madness.
---
everyday i think of three people. one who knows i love. one who used to know, but at this point wants me dead. one who lives in the dark.
i can't say what love is. because it is no singular emotion. it is a chameleon, taking on different shapes to fit the people of our lives into what we see them as.
on one hand it is the person we are balanced with, the "yin to my yang" scenario.
then there is the love that you passed up on. the one who broke your heart, or the one you left abandoned on the side of the road screaming your name in sadness or despair but still filled with a misunderstood love.
and always, there is the one who you love but cannot be in love with because of so many under(lying) reasons. the one who is perfect for you in understanding. or by definition.
but love, for me doesn't fit into a box. it's is not pandora's little chest of curiosities.
i know what love means to me.
---
it is life.
--
it is infinite
Saturday, July 4, 2009
An Insane Curiosity
"my mind has wandered from the straight and narrow,
---
lately i have become strangely interested in insanity, or "psychopathology".
i have no idea at all what has brought this interest on, maybe it is drood that it is causing the interest, but i think it has been on my mind longer.
i mentioned two blogs ago that various famed, and extremely intelligent, people have been eccentric. and often times have been recorded (historically) as being somewhat outside of the social norm of the time (or of anytime).
what interests me is the defining qualities of insanity, or just what being insane means.
day-to-day it is something i feel i want to experience on some level. that sounds in-itself somewhat insane, but really, when looking at those geniuses of the human species one has to wonder if there is true insanity.
i look at it in a way that leads me to believe that some people, those who are not violently insane, see things with more understanding.
it's why i believe many musicians, authors, and artists, have found clairvoyance (of sorts) in drugs... the substances create a short-term insanity.
a way to see beyond what is considered the "norm".
my mind has wandered from the flock you see."
-oingo boingo, "insanity"
lately i have become strangely interested in insanity, or "psychopathology".
i have no idea at all what has brought this interest on, maybe it is drood that it is causing the interest, but i think it has been on my mind longer.
i mentioned two blogs ago that various famed, and extremely intelligent, people have been eccentric. and often times have been recorded (historically) as being somewhat outside of the social norm of the time (or of anytime).
what interests me is the defining qualities of insanity, or just what being insane means.
day-to-day it is something i feel i want to experience on some level. that sounds in-itself somewhat insane, but really, when looking at those geniuses of the human species one has to wonder if there is true insanity.
i look at it in a way that leads me to believe that some people, those who are not violently insane, see things with more understanding.
it's why i believe many musicians, authors, and artists, have found clairvoyance (of sorts) in drugs... the substances create a short-term insanity.
a way to see beyond what is considered the "norm".
Defining Circumstances
"i can't remember who said it first, and i mark it as one of life's great ironies: so often, the details of what shapes us most are forgotten over the course of our day-to-days. if we knew how important a moment was going to be to us one day, i imagine we would record it or preserve it better. sure- we'll pay through the nose to have our weddings videotaped; but can we say the same thing about the first time we discovered masturbation, or the moment we realized that the true nature of the opposite sex was to lie and humiliate? usually not."
-kevin smith
---
this blog, along with the next two, are sort of an experiment. they are all going to be very loosely (even vaguely) connected, but hopefully, all will be pretty personal.
why?
i don't think i have enough "real" personal blogs posted, and i feel that is the point for this blog.
---
i can think of only a handful of moments that have defined me: that have truly given a definition to me. maybe some of these events haven't really given meaning to me to others, but they have, in a short period of time, all given an understanding of me for myself.
and maybe that understanding of self is more important than some some projected half image.
---
in order. order may be best.
---
first kiss.
i think my first kiss is something that made me understand people, attraction, better than any event before (maybe since). it was something that just made me see things differently, even if those things i saw were still from an adolescent viewpoint.
my first kiss just meant so much to me. it was an event i didn't expect, didn't really see coming at the time, but something i think about constantly.
in fact, i wonder if there is going to be a kiss, or any physical act that will explain more in seconds than my first kiss had.
---
first fight.
another "first", another event that explained so much so quickly.
getting hit in the face twice is something that i just won't forget. not because of pain, not because of surprise.
instead, i think it was the first time i felt hate. i knew the person this event happened with disliked me, but after those two hits to the face i knew that it went far beyond a simple sense of fucked-up teenage rivalry or angst.
it was hate.
and like love, it's just something that is incomprehensible, dangerous, and completely uncontrolled.
---
freshman year was a very odd experience for me (hell, being honest, it is probably bizarre for many a 14 year old).
two things happened that defined pretty much my entire existence in high school.
one, i think i fell in love with "my best friends girl". or ex-girl. or something. but maybe love is too strong a word-- maybe it was more an insane infatuation. or maybe a misunderstanding.
but it defined me in ways i still sometimes think of from time to time: it made me realize that i would break friendships for relationships- a trend that undoubtedly it still within my blood, my mind, and my heart.
the other thing? megan.
---
megan fucking was a bane and boon to my high school life. i loved her in ways i still, to this day, cannot, and will not explain nor question.
something she gave to me, something she made me into, made me me for the years that followed... and ninth grade we had only met. nothing happened.
nothing but a friendship formed in zero period earth sciences.
then came tenth grade, and the kiss i will never forget as long as i live. it remains to this day the best non-sexual physical experience of my life.
it's all a bit fucked up.
---
tenth grade is also the time where i figured out i could get away with saying things through writing. i found out that i could express so much without vocally saying anything about anything. i could symbolize, i could write in metaphor, and it would all be meaningless to anyone but me.
and learning how to write in such a way is the most important out of mind, out of body, experience i ever have had.
---
if you knew me in high school, in late 10th, 11th, and senior year, you know that i drank. a lot. too much.
it was also a habit, at times, i still find myself fighting back. still find myself unable to control without guidance from those who have stood by me for all the insane, intense, drinking periods.
but i would be a liar if i acted as if it didn't shape me in some way. drinking is a choice, but it was choice i made for knowing the consequences that would haunt me from day to day, moment to moment in the years that followed.
so much of my writing, so many of my current "philosophies" have come from the act.
---
8/2/2006.
andrew saved my life, and for that i will love him forever.
---
a little over a year later (or less?) i met rockie, who unknown to you (rockie) until now-- you also defined me in ways that i cannot explain.
not because of any one reason, not really. but you have been someone who i know i can depend on more than many of my closest, "forever"-known, friends.
-kevin smith
---
this blog, along with the next two, are sort of an experiment. they are all going to be very loosely (even vaguely) connected, but hopefully, all will be pretty personal.
why?
i don't think i have enough "real" personal blogs posted, and i feel that is the point for this blog.
---
i can think of only a handful of moments that have defined me: that have truly given a definition to me. maybe some of these events haven't really given meaning to me to others, but they have, in a short period of time, all given an understanding of me for myself.
and maybe that understanding of self is more important than some some projected half image.
---
in order. order may be best.
---
first kiss.
i think my first kiss is something that made me understand people, attraction, better than any event before (maybe since). it was something that just made me see things differently, even if those things i saw were still from an adolescent viewpoint.
my first kiss just meant so much to me. it was an event i didn't expect, didn't really see coming at the time, but something i think about constantly.
in fact, i wonder if there is going to be a kiss, or any physical act that will explain more in seconds than my first kiss had.
---
first fight.
another "first", another event that explained so much so quickly.
getting hit in the face twice is something that i just won't forget. not because of pain, not because of surprise.
instead, i think it was the first time i felt hate. i knew the person this event happened with disliked me, but after those two hits to the face i knew that it went far beyond a simple sense of fucked-up teenage rivalry or angst.
it was hate.
and like love, it's just something that is incomprehensible, dangerous, and completely uncontrolled.
---
freshman year was a very odd experience for me (hell, being honest, it is probably bizarre for many a 14 year old).
two things happened that defined pretty much my entire existence in high school.
one, i think i fell in love with "my best friends girl". or ex-girl. or something. but maybe love is too strong a word-- maybe it was more an insane infatuation. or maybe a misunderstanding.
but it defined me in ways i still sometimes think of from time to time: it made me realize that i would break friendships for relationships- a trend that undoubtedly it still within my blood, my mind, and my heart.
the other thing? megan.
---
megan fucking was a bane and boon to my high school life. i loved her in ways i still, to this day, cannot, and will not explain nor question.
something she gave to me, something she made me into, made me me for the years that followed... and ninth grade we had only met. nothing happened.
nothing but a friendship formed in zero period earth sciences.
then came tenth grade, and the kiss i will never forget as long as i live. it remains to this day the best non-sexual physical experience of my life.
it's all a bit fucked up.
---
tenth grade is also the time where i figured out i could get away with saying things through writing. i found out that i could express so much without vocally saying anything about anything. i could symbolize, i could write in metaphor, and it would all be meaningless to anyone but me.
and learning how to write in such a way is the most important out of mind, out of body, experience i ever have had.
---
if you knew me in high school, in late 10th, 11th, and senior year, you know that i drank. a lot. too much.
it was also a habit, at times, i still find myself fighting back. still find myself unable to control without guidance from those who have stood by me for all the insane, intense, drinking periods.
but i would be a liar if i acted as if it didn't shape me in some way. drinking is a choice, but it was choice i made for knowing the consequences that would haunt me from day to day, moment to moment in the years that followed.
so much of my writing, so many of my current "philosophies" have come from the act.
---
8/2/2006.
andrew saved my life, and for that i will love him forever.
---
a little over a year later (or less?) i met rockie, who unknown to you (rockie) until now-- you also defined me in ways that i cannot explain.
not because of any one reason, not really. but you have been someone who i know i can depend on more than many of my closest, "forever"-known, friends.
and i love you for that.
---
i think that's good for now. i'm leaving a lot out. obviously things that happen (or have happend) more than once i can't write much about (sex and the like)... i also am leaving things that happened previously to this presented time frame out. and things that have happened more recently.
there is so much more. specific teachers (the teals, missiakian, andrews), friends (jino, jennifer, colleen), family (my brother, my dad)...
there are always things that i just can't write. both good, bad, great and terrible.
or can't bring myself to write (my mom, and such things)... but i will.
i think this blog is really opening a purpose for those of you i have ask to read this.
so, next blog is on insanity, followed by love.
---
i think that's good for now. i'm leaving a lot out. obviously things that happen (or have happend) more than once i can't write much about (sex and the like)... i also am leaving things that happened previously to this presented time frame out. and things that have happened more recently.
there is so much more. specific teachers (the teals, missiakian, andrews), friends (jino, jennifer, colleen), family (my brother, my dad)...
there are always things that i just can't write. both good, bad, great and terrible.
or can't bring myself to write (my mom, and such things)... but i will.
i think this blog is really opening a purpose for those of you i have ask to read this.
so, next blog is on insanity, followed by love.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Uncontrolled Thoughts
i'm looking out the window right now thinking of what to write on this virtual paper, this place where i sometimes escape.
release.
it has been ten days or so from my last "blog" that really wasn't a blog at all, but when you can't put thoughts down, when i can't put thoughts down, i might as well put something harmless up so i don't forget i have this blog.
but maybe that is an exaggeration. i really don't forget i have this space to vent even when i neglect it.
---
i'm listening to the molo session of "long road" right now, realizing that the three pearl jam songs vedder recorded with the south african choir are probably the best versions of those songs.
it's sometimes is odd to me when my favorite songs by a band are not done by the band.
---
"that's my place to get away"
i just realized, reading through my texts, how similar we are.
not in a creepy romantic way or anything, and in all honesty i didn't think so when you told me you thought so. but every time, over the past few months, i have got a text or message from you, i have thought about it.
it's an odd thing to realize, but i am not sure why.
---
why do people watch wrestling?
---
i am reading a book (fictionalized-but historically accurate) on the last decade (or so) of charles dickens's life. it's told from the standpoint of william collins (moonstone), a close friend of dickens, and it really examines a spiraling obsession and how it effected the genius author.
it is one of those thought provoking novels. every time i read a novel or book (non-fiction), or even see a documentary on someone who had an unmatched intelligence, it always hints that the person was not quite right.
that as they grew, or became more popular, or whatever they sort of went insane.
there are theories on this for shakespeare, da vinci, einstein, dickens...
it's just sort of worrisome that so many of the greatest minds the world will ever know were somewhat insane.
but at the same time, it makes me realize that one cannot label, or define, "normal".
---
i really want to write a parody of a brother's grimm fairy tale. i don't know which one i would pick, but thinking about it, i really think it would be "little red riding hood".
i think that is probably the most interesting to reinterpret.
---
friendships are really bizzare to me.
if only because i never understand them.
---
i think that's good for today.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)