(no subject)
We held our legs parallel to the ground - urethane cartographers of this small mid-atlantic town. You were stuck in the mid-west making signs for opposing teams. Do our lives now live up to all our dreams? Do we write it in our skin, indelible? "SK8 or Die," "Fuk'n Go," "Don't Give Up Hope," I guess I don't know. Or maybe we'll assert in binary. Dear diary, I wonder if words can make things real. I hope they might.
Despite the potency of our personal histories, I try to think that what matters, damn it, is what we're doing now. And what we're doing now is defined less by our identities and ideas and more by the reality of the actions in our lives. Still, I'd like to hope that all the conversations that we have and the proclaimations that we make at least give us something to hold ourselves to.:-(
Despite the potency of our personal histories, I try to think that what matters, damn it, is what we're doing now. And what we're doing now is defined less by our identities and ideas and more by the reality of the actions in our lives. Still, I'd like to hope that all the conversations that we have and the proclaimations that we make at least give us something to hold ourselves to.:-(