Tuesday, February 11, 2014

1. I hate myself.
2. I self destruct with smokes and whisky. 
3. I have a problem with overdoing it. 
4. I get so gone that people are forced to take care of me. 
5. I'm lonely. I forget. 
6. I fall into the pattern of getting carried away. 
7. I hate myself. 

Thursday, January 30, 2014

birthday song

you grow older and older and older
you grow older and older and older
but you still don't grow up
you can't act like an adult
you just get older and older

you grow older and older and older
you need the heat the fire and the whiskey
you live in extremes
you need to be on the scene
you just get older and older

Wednesday, January 01, 2014

the new year requires fire and a kiss, I combined them. the ball of rum roams the room. the heating pad flat to my stomach and the tent honing its call, a bubble of pillows. my first new year away from home. unbelievable, and unremarkable. really actually alone. watch the rum roll. the ball drops on its own.

Friday, November 29, 2013

people only want me for the element of spectacle. I am eager to give and entertain and draw them out but it drains. sometimes I'm not getting anything back.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

i need to relax and listen to more groovy music and old boogie and i think that will help. i want to shave half my head and wear a cap and pants. jean jacket style. calm it down but still fun. to entertain and boggle. CAN I BE A CLOWN YET?

Tuesday, November 12, 2013

a vivid morning dream, when you almost feel awake and present in the floating. 

I'm being punished or maybe otherwise institutionalized. I'm locked into one of the cat cages from work and I can't sleep all night on the cold metal floor. 

i don't have words to explain this: a woman wants to ride around on a giant steamroller. it's luxurious and she's 30 feet off the ground. not driving, just sitting in the open air and waving and being on top. 

I'm escorted back into the cattery and someone is being pinned to the floor, getting a giant needle stabbed into their ass. the guard tells me I'm next. up to this point, I've been uncooperative but here I see my chance. I tell him I'll take the drugs without fighting, so they give me painkillers and the pills dissolve in my mouth before I can swallow them down with water. 

Since I've "decided to be good" they're gonna move me to a different cell. I'm marched through a sinister and deeply rich maze of strange objects like a carnival. huge images hang from the ceiling: a massive burger and fries, a Maurice Sendak style king's face. The colors are pale and dark and I say nothing. 

As we weave between the disheveled buildings and the shanty shacks, I am able to get away from my escort for brief moments. I'm opening every door I can find without making a scene. Filthy hairy prisoners quietly creep free and disappear into the darkness. 

I'm moved into a bigger enclosure. Is this jail for cats and humans? From my cell I can see a kitten (again in a group room from the cattery) and a woman asking questions about him. She's afraid he will be "uncontrollable" since he isn't neutered yet. (are we cats or people?)

Morgan comes to visit. She has lost a tooth and in its place, a whole new set of tiny teeth is growing in. It looks like a kitten's teeth inside her normal mouth. I tell her something isn't right. 

I'm plotting my escape. 


Monday, November 11, 2013

i read your letter

and i felt only emptiness. you can't get back what you broke. i've tried, but i don't know how to make you understand that. i'm glad that you are happy, but i have nothing for you. sometimes i miss you but i know i'm missing something that doesn't exist anymore. some days i can smile at those memories; others i'm just hurt and heartbroken. i can't forgive you if you can't understand what happened. you threw out our friendship and you don't deserve it back. i am more than you ever knew, than you will ever know.

Thursday, November 07, 2013

the last few days have been some of the most intense ups and downs in the history of my life, no joke.

thursday morning (halloween) was minerva's tail amputation and spay surgery, which they decided to do even though she'd been sneezing a bit. normally, sick babies don't get surgery, but they said her tail just had to come off, and we couldn't wait any longer. holly kept catching me peeking through the window of the operating room, trying to catch a glimpse of my baby on my way to the coffee machine. finally i asked her to let me know how it went, and holly promised she'd let me know. back in the cattery, trish showed up to pick up kittens for brodie petco, and luckily she was not in a rush, so she held cats and we talked while i checked everybody's med records and tried to figure out who to send. holly popped in to tell me that they were about to start minerva's surgery, and i literally dropped everything and ran to the OR window to watch. holly let me come into the room and told me not to touch or breathe on or even look at the stand of surgical instruments at the foot of the operating table. i was so anxious and upset to see my baby gone under - her tongue hanging out and pinched by tongs, her eyes half open and glossy, breath slow and soft. she should always be talking, hopping, purring, so as excited as i was for her, it was hard not to feel upset seeing her like that. the doctor was not someone i've ever met before. maybe it was dr jefferson, the head of APA, who i am always hearing about but never seeing. at any rate, she didn't say hi to me or make eye contact, so i'm afraid my presence bothered her. i walked down to wendy's office to ask her a quick question and then let mer know that the surgery was about to start, so she ran back to watch through the window with me. since minerva's tail was broken in several places, they started by just cutting off the bulk of it with scissors. wendy was horrified, and i was fascinated, and so happy that she'd finally be rid of that dead thing. we were kinda squealing, and holly had to tell us to shut up, which i now feel terrible about... i didn't know they could really hear us through the glass! holly brought out the severed tail and let me hold it. it didn't feel how i expected - it was like a furry finger, stiff, but the fur was like a case that could be slid up and down around the hard bone. i freaked out, loving it, getting minerva's blood on my hands, immediately wishing i'd taken a picture.

the day proceeded to turn into a giant mass of sickness, with 20 cats needing medicine, in addition to the already sick guys, the possible calicivirus cats, and three or four babies needing to be force fed. sandy started puking up orange foam and i freaked out that he had eaten a toy and moved him to a single and took away his food. i was running back to the clinic for the zillionth time that afternoon when i finally asked how minerva was doing -- anthony told me she was awake and doing well, just really drunk from all the painkillers and tranquilizers. i asked if i could bring her back to cattery, and they said sure. she was probably tripping hard when i took her out of the clinic kennel; she kept scooting away when i tried to pick her up. but when i got her back in her regular bluebox, she let me pet her and purred away. she was mostly her usual ridiculous self, although she was stumbling around and her eyes looked wet and weepy. i set her up with her snuggiedisc and a warm bowl of fancy feast, which she devoured while perching on the warm disc. when the transport person showed up to take her to foster, it was so hard for me to let her go. i got steve to take our picture before kissing her head and saying goodbye.

i ended up working till almost midnight, with all the sick babies and force feeding. i was so exhausted, i involuntarily stopped at a taco bell on my way home. for real, my body just took over and pulled into the drive-thru. at home, i made a list but was too tired to pack and just passed out on top of my laundry.

on friday. i woke up at 8:30 to pack, but i'm a slow-poke and i didn't have time to take a shower or eat or buy coffee for amy like i said i would, especially because she convinced me i needed to be there an hour before my plane took off. she drove me in my own car to the airport because i didn't know how to get there. watching her drive away in my car was like going through a portal - my regular life had left me behind.

after going through security, i found a coffee stand and bought a bagel and latte. why can't i seem to remember that i HATE lattes?!?! never again. over breakfast, i typed some hurried notes for laylee about the cats - i usually try to do this the night before, but i was just too exhausted and there were too many. so i'm hunched over my bagel and phone, and who should walk up but DAN who had actually told me he was flying to his hometown in mexico today for a wedding. of course! i never imagined i'd see him here, and it was pretty awkward. i didn't stand up and he didn't sit down. what do you say to someone who you haven't seen since your drunken cuddle party sleepover two weeks ago? "have fun at the wedding." he isn't so attractive in the harsh airport light, and he looks exhausted and ill. almost grey. i know he's gotta be thinking the same thing about me.

i boarded the plane next to last, and before we took off, i remembered laylee's family tradition: before traveling, take a moment to sit and close your eyes and think of all the people you love and visualize a safe journey. laylee said, "i guess it's like praying, but not."

on the plane, i sat next to a 60-something-year-old woman from Indianapolis who had been in austin for her friend's daughter's wedding. it was Downtown Abbey / Edgar Allen Poe themed, and this lady thought it was gonna be a joke, but it was actually one of the most beautiful, "impressive" weddings she had ever been to. "I'm conservative, and I was expecting it to be a joke, but this was just impressive." so old people can still be surprised, can still change their minds. another instance of me relating more to old people than to people my age, these days. and how weird it is that old people are just as confused and stumbling as me -- it doesn't get better, it doesn't make more sense with age. as the plane lands, she weasels it out of me that i'm going home for the film fest. "Be proud of yourself! This is a huge accomplishment!" okay, i'll try. "No, do! Like Yoda said, "Don't try. Do!" this makes me smile and i think she might be right.

brett has agreed to pick me up from the airport, but for some reason we can't find each other. i forget which way is out -- this airport is so weirdly small and dinky, but none of the signage makes sense and i can't figure out where i'm going, and i'm so anxious to get out of there, i just keep turning around and around. i go down the escalator, and he isn't there, so i go back up, and finally find him. the moment is a little odd, as moments in way stations often are. he seems excited to see me, but also surprised (do i look different?) and a little unsure of himself. in true brett fashion, the first thing he does is take a stop at the wiz palace. of course. on the way out, i see the Flyer in its little dispenser and i have to stop and get a copy. even though i already knew we had the cover, it's still mindblowing and surreal to see it right in front of me, in the box with a hundred other copies, sitting here in the memphis international airport. no fucking way.

so we decide to go to lunch, but first brett has to check the blu-ray of the movie at morgan fox's house, and while we're at it, i'll charge my phone for a few minutes. declan opens the door and is certainly surprised to see us, but seems happy nonetheless. we give and get big hugs, and hang out on the couch with delvy. eileen has just gotten dressed and says hello for a minute before cole wheeler shows up and they disappear. mfox gets home too and it's a real memphis reunion. it comes out that craig brewer's "secret screening" is at the same time as Concrete, and this really pisses me off. there are so few hometowner features this year -- why would they put two of them at the same time?? morgan says that craig was pissed about it too, and asked the festival director to change the times, but he said it was too late and the schedule had already been published. i'm really annoyed, but morgan assures me that the audiences are different, that it won't hurt our screening, that we're gonna sell out anyway. i'm especially upset because the movie actually looks interesting, since it's a documentary about the memphis chapter of the black panthers and actually has nothing to do with nasty ole craig brewer.

brett and i piddle for a hundred years before we finally decide to go to kwik check for sandwiches. the stoner MCA student forgets my order and only makes us one sandwich, which i convince brett to split. leila stops by our table and says hi, hello, congratulations on the movie, etc. unfortunately she can't come because she's already told one of the Invaders folks that she'd be their date. we eat our sad cheese sandwich until morgan calls and says she's just gotten off work, and she needs to do some things at home, but she'll meet us in midtown soon. me and b make our way to playhouse, where we find free beer, friends, and film freaks milling around being awkward. we make sure we've strewn our postcards all over creation, and someone maybe even asks us about the film. we sit on weird chairs made out of tires. i kind of love them even though there's metal poking into your back if you lean at all. chris has a hug for us, and craig brewer even has kind things to say about the film. he promises to give me something (a shirt or dvd, perhaps?) but we never see it. when he asks what we're up to, i make sure to get brett going on his movie, which he immediately regrets, although i think he has the speech pretty down by now. even if the elevator pitch is still 100 words strung together -- it's the truth.

we head to my parents' house to pick up morgan and make the rounds. as usual, the dogs are freaking out and so happy to see us, and willikers makes something of an appearance, as well. we end up sitting in the den for way longer than brett is clearly comfortable, and eventually he drags morgan and me to a movie that's almost over, just to get us out of there. but it was so nice to sit at home and feel so cozy and chat with the rents about who knows what. goodbye to my kitty, goodbye to everyone.

we arrive for the third act of the movie -- a heartfelt comedy about gamer nerds -- and it's not half bad. it gets some chucks from our little corner of the theater, where ben siler has joined us after we come in way late. after the film, we stand around on the street corner while morgan stresses out about bekka and how to get her to find us. i am really looking forward to seeing her and trying to get morgan to give directions that make sense. she's so anxious that bekka won't be able to get into the filmmaker VIP party at the local, but i assure her that it will be a piece of cake. why so anxious, morgan??? what can i do for her??

Sunday, October 27, 2013

every day i nearly die, and so do you, and so do you.

when i got to work, the whole APA parking lot was full because of all the games going on. saturday sucks. i shot death glares at every man, woman, and child on the stupid soccer field, plus the baseball diamond. i sure do hate children a lot these days.... but so does everyone i work with, so that's awesome.


[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[finish this later]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

Wednesday, October 23, 2013

sometimes, in the distance, I see beasts. 

Monday, October 21, 2013

i tried to go to sleep at 12:30 tonight and haven't had any luck. last night i got home from work at 12:30, ate a piece of alfredo pizza from papa john's, had a glass of wine, took a benadryl, and went to bed around 2. i woke up at 3:30 in the afternoon then went to a potluck party on a farm. i had yummy veggies and macaroni and lots of good beer. i got too much food and had to throw it in the woods because they had taken away the trash can by the time we left. i am sad that i didn't get to eat my hardboiled egg, but i hope a possum finds it. i wish i could sleep. i took a half a bendadryl around 5 so hopefully it will kick in soon. i wonder if my pills are keeping me awake or if it's caffeine or anxiety or what. i've just been thinking about the cats all night. and itching itching itching. i need to find out if kelly got itchy when she was staying here. i just keep thinking that it's somehow self-contained and as usual my body is a mutiny and maybe it has to do with being a mutant. next week i have an appointment to find out whether i am eligible for sliding scale health services and then maybe i can afford to go to a dermatologist. my body feels like it's breaking down entirely. i hate doctors but i don't know what else to do. i feel guilty that i haven't taken my cat to the doctor in so long. i should make him a doctor appointment while i'm in memphis for the film festival. i feel like the worst cat mama ever. i wonder if i can bring him back with me on the plane. i miss him but i still don't know where i'll be living next month. everything feels so up in the air and impermanent and sliding and i don't like it. not that things are bad in general. i do like my job, but i need to learn not to work too much. i might have a date with a lady tomorrow. i have never been on a date, so i don't know if this is one. i might be too scared to show up. i might go to a show with a band from memphis and get drunk instead. i might go get the kitten with the broken tail and bring her to my room. i wanted to bring home jekyll but i couldn't when kelly and dill were staying here. i was going to bring her home on wednesday but laylee gave her to another foster and i will never see her again. i'm sad but i shouldn't be. story of my life. tomorrow maybe i'll get minerva and maybe won't be so lonely. maybe soon i'll fall asleep.

Monday, September 30, 2013

i hope my thoughts don't pierce your dreams

just saw Walt play and felt all the feelings. i didn't get to talk with him much, but the set really overwhelmed me. the music lost and found me and took me back to new orleans days and made me think of so many friends, so far or so gone. and here i am, tied up by my own lonesome leash.


listening to: 

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

"Forgive yourself for not being at peace. The moment you completely accept your non-peace, your non-peace is transmuted into peace. Anything you accept fully will get you there, will take you into peace. This is the miracle of surrender."
tonight, walking back with the groceries, i thought of this quote, in the parking lot between the car and the door. i was thinking, “i cannot be happy. i have tried and failed too many times, it hurts too much, i give up on happiness,” and the resignation was such sweet relief, and it was so familiar, having thought this so many times, and i want to just feel nothing but that feeling, that empty low that owes nothing, that hollow in between the trying. and i thought of this quote, and i felt so calm, and of course reading it here now, it seemed better in my mind, though i couldn’t quite say just what is missing. and that rather neatly drives the whole thing home, doesnt it, though i hate to point it out.
remembered this quote tonight, walking from my car to the apartment, desperately hoping that the grocery bag wouldn't break. that would have just been the last straw. (i wonder what really would be the last straw, at this point.) thinking: i want to go home, but there is no home. i want to be somewhere else, do something else, but it won't help. i want to be happy, but i don't know how. i'm not capable. i have known this for a long time, but remembering my resignation tonight with the groceries, i felt such a burden lifted, and i remembered this quote. i don't want to jinx it, but so far it seems to help. or maybe it's just really late. today was terrible. this week was terrible. every time i see a bit of silver lining, or have a little moment to smile, it all goes black again. i am overwhelmed and undone by everything. it's leaking out now, without my choosing. laylee had to see me cry tonight and i felt like such a pathetic baby; i didn't want her to know. coffee, brett phone call, egg in a basket, car phone calls, craigslist, nothingness, shower, getting off x3, hash stash chills, look for place to live, couch on the car, hit the other car, crying, grocery, beer, tv, sleep. why i cling to other people: i have nothing to live for on my own. why i stay up so late: i'm allowed to be in my own world, a nothing place.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

death night. puddles, beer, tears. i don't know that i'm qualified to take care of cats. or much of anything else. feeling more useless and alone than ever and could really use a hello.
of course there's plenty else to say but no time at all to say it. 2am!!! how are you here again. i have to go to bed to dream about cats to wake up to take care of cats. repeat. circle.

Sunday, August 04, 2013

if I was where I would be, then I'd be where I am not

today was my first day in austin after it took me a million and a half years to get here. after we got back from georgia, i had a really hard time packing up and getting on the road. in fact, i got so anxious just about packing that i almost backed out of the whole thing. FINISH THIS.

listening to: karen dalton - katie cruel

Monday, July 29, 2013

sun forms shadows inside me

dreamt of walking in the woods, in groups and alone, hiding and searching, walking the stream, not just wading across. wrapped three black musket balls in leaves and hid them in the river cane. peering through the trees at the far-off crowd.

the alarm and the snooze button brought me hazy texts from charlotte and made me think of amy's song "walking in the woods" and i inserted them into the dream as well, though i forget just how, now hours later. it all feels like some omen against austin, though that could just be my anxiety talking. in the dream, i responded to charlotte and it somehow felt positive, but in life, i'm too sad to write back, real dreams of north carolina and poetry and goats all fading to nothing.

i've got to get this shit on track. austin has to be better than this paralysis.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Something about shuffle tonight has me spinning in circles of you. Or something about being here in georgia again, almost a full year since i last saw you. Or because of the mind numbing deadness of bejeweled pushes all this unfinished business to the surface. I dont know how to be done. The number of times ive thought of writing, even planned to, but where would that get me? Would it really be closure? How could it. And how could co mmunicating make things any better? Youre happy now. I know that and im glad you found what you were looking for. Theres no reason to disrupt that. (not that i could really have much effect there anyway.) your last letter suggested you were failing at your relationship, thhat you were "damaged goods." that was one of the most infuriating and frustrating lines-- as if saying that absolves you, as if there were any such thing. And the subtext seemed to say, "i cant do this, and im telling you because it isnt working and im moving back." and my heart couldve broken again but it hardened again that you assumed id take you back. So what was i supposed to say? I had plans, grand plans, to get you on my side and pull you down and really make you see... But i had tried that once (twice? Twenty times?) before to no avail. What good would it to and why should i waste my time? And still im planning the letter, thinking what i would have said. Sometimes its mostly nice-- i really do miss telling you about my life, miss having you to talk with. But i try to stay resolved: you have to know that youve done wrong, you fucked me over, and now you dont get to know. Youve lost the privilege. Anyway you wouldnt have cared to hear about my depression (because you never did) or about my granny's last months (i cant picture you taking care of anyone) or any of the mundane stupid things ive wanted to share with you.

I wouldve told you that when i moved back to memphis i found a beautiful card, with the start of a letter from my mom. "it was great to see you but i wish you would think about what you weere doing and stop wasting aysour time." something to that affect. Se hads said it to my face before we left town but i was offended and not really paying atttention. (good god i was riding so high on the dream of you.) but damn it ehat a huge waste of time and energy. Maybe you feel the same somehow. But i was reacng out and out, feeling so little in return and just rideing that dream, putting so much energy into the idea, hangiong so much on your occasional sweet line.

Unlearning that love has been a great lesson, an experiment. Ive had more sex this year than in the past three combined, albeit mostly bad. I thoug i couldnt do it but appparentlyi i too am capable of random drunk hookups and even sustained flings. Ive got my mind wrapped up around this one guy, he's older, a drummer, and a comiplete mystery to me. So i mabe overanalyze our intewractions out of curiosity, and a need to be solving puzzles, of which i hhave no otherw at the moment (sexual or otherwise). But at the end of the day i know it doesnt mean anything and i find these thoughts on repeat: this may br th last time. i sr ysour face. You have never said my name. Do you like me or not? not that it matters. But it is interesting and odd to spend time with (and devote thoughts to) a human whom i do not love, romantically or otherwise.

So when i miss you, i think i miss loving you, the act of devotion, the dream of what you were and what we couldve been. It was all speculative afer all, which makes it feel all the more stolen. But no, you had the right idea. Cut it off and dont look back.

I dont really beliee that. I believed you respected me too much to take that route. And i resent you for that. And i still miss your sense of humor and our little talks and jokes and our whole history and your ice blue eyes. And didnt they say it all, shouldent i have known? That ice spread thin and far, covered up everything and froze us in the end.

Monday, July 22, 2013

last night again you were in my dream

but thank god i don't remember it. somehow you floated into my mind while i was brushing my teeth, and i remembered you had been there. even asleep, i ignored you. two rows over in the theatre, and not a word. but you just followed us around and didn't say anything, so it was easy. and saying it like that sounds like the living you, but the dream you pulled and twisted, and glowed and hummed. brushing my teeth, i laughed at how the reality is flat and cold and easy to ignore. (and yet this dream.)

"the days go by like butterflies...." the days move abruptly from coffee to beer. my head aches with a constant tender worry, my skin feels thin and useless over imagined/probable ills. i can't shake this damned cough, after being sick ever since the vagina overkill/amy oelsner show (almost two weeks ago now) and then chainsmoking at bobby's going away party (though he isn't yet gone away). it's a wonder i haven't infected anyone. mostly i just want to know what the hell is going on, and why i can't choose, and how i ever fell this stagnant. who is driving this contraption, who calls the shots, and what do they want?

maybe it's not all bad. there's drinking an appropriate amount of beer, the bartender saying that you have the best laugh -- the bar folk don't bite every night. tipping off your stool, leaning and laughing, canoodling all night, a dozen poses at his place, and tiptoeing home at dawn before the long drive to see your grandparents in georgia. the audiobook narrator's voice makes your head reel, but it's almost puss in boots, and you will live through this. it has often been worse.

your goals fluctuate wildly, from grand and wild to status quo to suicide, depending on the time of day and how much art you're absorbing. versus how much media. some nights it's okay to watch bad movies with your parents, play unblock me, and believe that having a 9 to 5 job would be the greatest thing that could happen. (from there, imagine the range of other possibilities -- it feels like sacrilege to write them down.) mostly, obsession is the thing, whether fleeting, ongoing, or recurring. you will consider every relationship, exhaust yourself over a moment or a text message, wonder and analyze and reconsider, all while knowing what a goddamn waste of time. but when you're not alone, how the time trips on and the thing takes over and you don't know who you are anymore- how much you change depending on whose company. how you seem so unsure of what you really want. how well you can pretend. how you never can stick to the plan. or the designated curfew, the number of drinks, the amount of money. you are sickened by your privilege and indecision, this rotting, waste. you don't know how to change.

like clockwork, your grandma wakes up between 2 and 3 every night to let the cat out (or in, apparently). "you're still awake? are you working on your.....?" she doesn't know what she is trying to ask, but no, of course you're not. you really don't deserve any of this; you're too lucky to have fucked up this bad. you should have done so much more.


listening to: joanna newsom - go long

Friday, July 12, 2013

it is dark here

i dreamed i manned a pirate ship, carrying my sister, our three dogs, and my cat. i don't remember much now that the nap is done, but it was an adventure and a struggle, and had very little to do with any ocean or other body of water. i remember sailing into a tree. and i remember that by the end, my main objective was to make it home safely with all the animals alive. (morgan could mostly fend for herself, and help out with the rest.)

i thought sylvie could make it, that it was the dogs i had to worry about. at one point, i set her down in a bathroom stall, needing the use of my hands for some other purpose. (were we sailing through the toilet?) she instantly tried to run away, jumping into a small square indention in the floor. at first glance, i thought she was safe there, but then i saw that the space lead to a greater tunnel, a sewer, and was actually filling with water (more water) and i had to scramble to reach in and barely grabbed her by the scruff of her neck before she was pulled away by the current. and why didn't she seem happy to be back?

at some point in the dream, i lost her. or at some point, i remembered she had died, and she wasn't my charge anymore. but at some point, maybe in between, i woke up thinking, "oh god i haven't fed her in days, how could i forget?" before i remembered.

why does the empty bed creak? when have i ever been so alone?

tonight i talked to laylee for the first time in months -- it's always awful how that happens, and now the time has really gotten away from me. she wants the whole story, and i still cry telling it, although it's maybe easier to hide now that it's been a week. the call is too brief and i mentally firm up my plans to move to austin. i just wish i'd hear back from the folks at duke one way or the other so i'd know where to start.


listening to: a cackle or a coughing fit - tunnel