p.s. MIA at Studio B made my summer...


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today I fell asleep on the grass outside the music building

I am sitting at the desk in the brand new loft in Brooklyn, eating last night's chinese and watching a cat climb down the fire escape outside the window. The last few days have been so surreal. Boston was nice, eventhough I spent much of my time there in the hospital. Now I am back in the city and I have to go into Manhattan to get a haircut. I ( Read more... )

You know when you forget about a band or a song that you used to really really REALLY love and then remember them and love them perhaps more than you did the first time ( Read more... )

Some mornings mom would drive me to school, all the way over the Williamsburg bridge to 16th and third, and we would get stuck in traffic. I would be late, and we would have plenty of time to talk. We would climb into the truck, baby blue with primer and holes rusted through the walls of the flatbed, put Pink Moon into the stereo, and rumble ( Read more... )

Earth moves so solitary ( Read more... )

"This may be the year when we finally come face to face with ourselves; finally just lay back and say it---that we are really just a nation of 220 million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms at all about killing anybody else in the world tries to make us uncomfortable ( Read more... )

the other day i went skating with cecily and owen. i skated in circles while they played hockey against these two old cats in bike helmets. we only brought two sticks, so i couldnt play, but i was thankful as i missed out on that quintessential canadian practice of teaching children to play hockey before they are taught how to speak. when i was ( Read more... )

i love being sick. thats not to say that i love the sickness of being sick, but i do love the lying around drinking tea and reading ness about being sick. its almost worth the runny nose headache fever of it all. and i suppose thats what tylenol cold is for. anyway, i finished my book, which presented the first negative literary interpretation of ( Read more... )

fucking genius. this could be dangerous.

"I'd like to read a story
in the newspaper

that ends with

'But she was having a bad dream,
really she's ok'"

because it seems that the way most things turn out.