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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007 |

love, love water.
time to sleep now.

Thursday, August 16, 2007 |

I really dig that last post. Like water from my fingers sometimes, it just flows.

In any event, still mired in non-computer land. How did this happen?? I can only say that I am but one consumer of a very large, large computer business. Should this thing go decidedly South, expect a blistering report of everything gone wrong.

Got to go, Buckley is barking at the swing set.

the tide Sunday, August 12, 2007 |

how quickly it turns. One week I'm up, writing, working and feeling not to bad. The next, it's a slippery slope to the dark waters I used to swim in on a regular basis.

I don't know where the flashlight is right now. Too tired to make assumptions about friends leaving me in the lurch, and trying to remind myself of who loves me. Or likes, at the very least.

It's a very short list.


I want to write in pencil forever Wednesday, August 08, 2007 |

Dear Chicago,
sleepful nights in a new place, my sheets are the same. A cracked lightbulb and cool evenings spent on the roof like 3rd Rock From The Sun. I feel like rainbow coloured paint inside my head when I'm trying to write, but the cigarette smoke tastes better than it ever has before.

Hewlitt Packard has my laptop hostage so I make sojourns to welcoming internet spots on my way to other more important places like the coffee store.

Listening to Matthew Good's new album is sharp like jagged edges but feels so good at the same time. In a none-hurting kind of way.

Go to go now.

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