2005-02-25 - 3:06 p.m.

Oomm has threatened to kill me if I offer up a plate full of snippets rather than a full story. So, because I'm a trouble-maker at heart I decided that

Sufjan Stevens makes me cry. I swear. I am such a cry-baby.

Some days I almost write "some dames" instead of "some days" and that makes me feel like a gangster. Not one of those gangsters that Rhi~ talks about today, but the good, old-fashioned gangsters from the 20s. Gosh I'm so old.

From an email I just wrote:

Peace, out.

(Do the kids still say "peace, out"? I'm so fucking old. And square. Don't forget square. And impenetrable to light. That's right. Light will simply not pass through me. True. I kid you not.)

I wish I was one of those iPod headphones and whisper into her ear all day as she travels to work, having her all to myself. Our own little world, cut off from all the noise and distractions. I could tell her all about the mornings when I wake up just before the alarm goes off and I have the sense of a wonderful dream which I can't remember but whatever it was it makes me feel like I feel when I'm with her.

Technically, I suppose, a powerful enough laser could pass through me. So, I'm not 100% impenetrable to light.


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