i want my quarter back

dear stuck alone in the road diary,

relaxing on a saturday night is the best thing ever. it's usually not what someone would expect out of a busy whore, but i ain't busy anymore. i am old now and do so very much enjoy slowing down to a near stop. every little thing bothers the unibomber. if he gets any tighter, he will surly spin apart. i have seen this happen before. i worry sometimes about the mental health issue. some of us around here seem to be reaching for straws popping up in china. i was walking up on the porch the other day and my heart sank seeing that my plant had fallen during some point during the day. i know why it fell though. i do. it's because i had turned it around so i could see the pretty side in the mornings when i wake up. i knew my mental health was strong- at least that day it was- because i didn't cry. i pulled my heart back up and got new dirt and things were as they were.

the call from the payphone

dear the both of them diary,

i have each dog up here next to me sleeping. one snores and one doesn't. i don't mind while i am awake- the snoring is cute, but when i am asleep- it will sometimes annoy me. tomorrow i am making hand breaded smashed up tenderloins in the magic skillet. tomorrow is a special day. nicolas will be nineteen years old and that just super trips me out. nineteen. his mother dated my brother and she was my very best friend in the entire world after they broke up and there was nothing i wouldn't have done for her. so that is what i had to do. she was there when i had both of my babies, i even refused to start pushing harry until she got there. she was an amazing mother to nick and showed me how to give william a bath- because i really was so scared. i haven't seen her for a very long time now, and nick, i haven't seen him either. they moved away in 1995 and that was pretty much that after that. pretty much like it always is.

a ruby saturday night

dear coming in second with the lights on diary,

waking up from my nap earlier, i had twitter messages to untangle on my phone, as well as missed calls and text messages- one from someone who lives in the light- the goat. i never call anyone back anymore and i never answer twits by phone, so i started down the text messages, stalling out on the goat's. i sat looking at it for a few minutes, stunned face, and i realized, the lights are on now (here on the dark side) and no longer am i the pitiful desperate whore i was before. i've been queen where i don't want to be for so long ida prolly (and have) tried about anything and everything to get out. but i know what i have to do and it is all on me and i will not be patronized by a fucking farm animal ever again. do not wait nine months and ask me what's for dinner. that's just stupid. i'm sure i wasn't your first choice- for real though, please make me your last.

$18.99 (no reserve or reservations either)

dear on the sail diary,

i don't have any ideas what a good offer would be. i don't even know what we are bidding on. but sailing around the world really doesn't interest me, so if i had a ticket to go, i'd start the bidding at $18.99. it would be a bargain. i've told y'all before how much i ain't really in to water boating and i still ain't. once the unibomber and i went with one of his drunk friends on the lake and we had an accident. i am unsure if that tainted my experience with the water forever, but it has for the last twenty years. now they say great white sharks want to swim with people and not eat them, thanks- but i'll swim in a pool yet- i ain't convinced. i never really liked when the unibomber had his waterbed. i had my dry bed across from it. that was the best two years of sleep i ever had. this is post number 1899, but it is not for sale. if i do ever get a ticket to sail around the world, i would certainly post it immediately on here and let anyone take my place.

undies in the leaves i will rake

dear when and where diary,

i found all my underwear last night. finally, i can wear all my skirts again. i knew they were around here somewhere. looking through this house and the mountain of clothes i have for something as small as a pair of underwear- well that could easily prove to be difficult- but wasn't. well yay! everything i need... for once. i didn't much feel like getting up today, my eyeballs still seem like they are back at the pillow somewhere, but ima do this- for a while anyway. i feel like i need to be awake for something. now that july has almost expired we can all start looking forward to the sun moving. then the leaves on the trees will get the permission they need to start changing and then.... the relief i long for....the beginning of the fall. that is my favorite time of year. watch the sky y'all. in about two weeks the sun will be in a different place- it will hit the ground as if to make a completely new sound. i will be wearing my skirts- playing in the new fall dirt- and leaving everything the fuck alone.

introducing... man and life

dear a sense of place is important diary,

growing up i always knew i wouldn't be an astronaut, but i never did mind hanging up in the clouds. i kept my head up there most of the time. i love good times, but sometimes it rains. we need rain. the wetness keeps a balance between the dry and the death of things. tears no longer save shit. i no longer save tears. i shed them and make more. i cry when i want to and lie when i have to- which is hardly ever these days. i went by the pond today and it still has water in it, so that was a good thing to see. i wondered how much water is left from when i was a kid. prolly more than i'd think, but less than i could prolly imagine. i'd never caught myself thinking of such a thing before, the shelf life of water in a pond, but now i am sure there is one. time is married to the past and i think they love each other and i am sure glad. it would fucking be terrible for certain if they didn't.

sleep is good food... PERIOD, COMMA, PERIOD.

dear cleaning the screen diary,

my laptop screen is so dirty these days, the periods look like commas and the commas look like commas. it makes me wonder how my shit ever got to be this dirty. i don't sit here and spit at it all day. i've been had the idea to get a new lap top, since i can hardly see the letters on the keys of this one any longer. but then i realized, i really don't look at the keys when i type, so i really don't need the letters on there anymore, so there really ain't nothing wrong with this one yet. see what i'm sayin? this one still turns on (knock on wood) and if i cleaned the screen the bitch would be damn near brand new again. i love my laptop. i think it loves me back. i think it likes me because i really don't go anywhere on the internet except here and twitter. it has an easy life. i always put my laptop in sleep mode when i am sleeping too. i knew this computer and i would get along just fine when i saw there was a special mode for sleeping.

i dunno cuz i ain't there yet

dear if you look diary,

when you cant find someone and you have searched everywhere- all over- it is time to consider the obvious. THEY DON'T WANNA BE FOUND, at least not by you anyway. they must want some time alone, or not so alone, or alone, or in the presence of another whore you don't know about. whores are not gender specific as everyone thinks either. for instance, i had a male dog once (marty) who wouldn't let another dog pass- male or female- without humping it. the unibomber used to be a whore, but he had every right to be. when you are good at something- you should share that talent. chances are though, when i cant be found, i ain't out whoring around. i'm off somewhere in a bed though, believe that, prolly enjoying every moment as if someone is grinding me like there is no tomorrow, but i am just sleeping- only sleeping. prolly.

a witches BREW

dear i woulda diary,

i woulda bought one of those wax witches on a stick i saw in my dream this morning for fifteen bucks- any day of the week. i liked the witches dressed in black better than the ones waxed up in white, but hair color to me makes no matter. i learned long ago a witch with blonde hair should be feared just as much as one with coal black hair. it is in the spell from the lips of the witch, that is where the power of her craft is- not tucked or hanging from under her pointed hat. it seems weird someone would think to encase a witch in wax to put fire to her and actually burn her to the stick. i would have never lit my wax witch. i would have cherished my sister forever. SHOUT OUT CUNTFACE!

sunrise shitter

dear so today our turd count is diary,

letting the grump out in the morning is when i watch him and count his first turds. today there was only two tiny ones, but i wasn't that disappointed because at least he shit out something. i'm thinking he didn't have a big ass meal before bedtime so that would explain the turdless awakening. the unibomber is second guessing the initial diagnosis and the second opinion he got last saturday as well. i, on the other hand, have chosen to accept the diagnosis and ignore it and the unibomber. ima keep it in the back of my mind, but try not to make it pivotal in all that i say, do, and feel. i think counting his turds every morning will be the extent of it for me. as long as what goes in still comes out- we got a good thing going here.

tiptoe like a hoe

dear anyway diary,

letting the dogs out can help me do things at 3AM that i cant get done at say 2AM when the fucktards are up and looking at me. that is why i do not mind getting up and staying up sometimes when they call on me to let them out. prince harry puts eleven dishes in the dishwasher when he loads it, and the unibomber flat out wont load it, and since william and lohan will be here by noon today and every dish in the house is dirty, except for eleven that were in the dishwasher (well actually ten because ONE glass was still dirty- toothpaste down the side) i figured- what a great time to sneak in a load. now i barely have anything left to prepare for their arrival. we are going to THROW DOWN on some food this weekend. i can not wait.

he's needin it BAD

dear land not so far away diary,

once upon right now, there was a man who some knew as ted. ted was an angry little man who like to fiddle with things and always fucked shit up and thought people were after him. ted also needed a haircut and would never seek out a barber. ted was a dickhead of a man and didn't have many friends, but he had a few. there are always footprints outside ted's windows. there were dead animals in ted's yard. and ted is always ready for an intruder. things move around on ted alot- and come up missing. people also steal ted's wallet. ted's mind is really far out there, so if any of y'all TOOK IT, burn that bitch up and return what's left.

chinga linga make me tingla wingla

dear if you don't calm down diary,

i will soon be naked. then i will be here alone with the dogs. and you, i will have you leave and go far away for a ride on your bike. you will know that i am at home with no clothes on and prolly in the bathtub getting off like a whore. all of the doors will be jammed and dead bolted. and if you come back- my cunt might be sore. you know i like to fuck the vacuum. and sometimes i shove things right up my ass. and lately the grump he has been aggressive- and keeping him off me has been a job and a half. so i'll talk to you later unibomber dear. take your fucking ULTRA sexy ass dumb attitude and GET ON OUT OF HERE.

short bus birds

dear notice this diary,

in order to have something special, you have to have something worth noticing that could be special, or you have to be someone who is special to notice something unspecial people do not. where to get that something or find that someone is all up to the person who decides which category they want to be in- or sometimes the category chooses them, or there are those exceptions where one person fits BOTH categories. it is this individual i pity. we call these members in our society superstars and i couldn't imagine living the way they have to live. see, i stick out like a sore thumb where ever i go and i don't really mind, but at the same time- i am not special. sure, i openly practice voodoo and cast spells and believe in the afterlife and talk to the spirits, but nobody flocks up to me screaming for my autograph- and i've kept sharpie pens in my purse now for years. flashbulbs stopping traffic used to give me a thrill in beverly hills when i wore my big floppy hat and dark glasses. now i can still stop traffic, i just wear my dark glasses and flip the birds.

over the cornrows, yet still in the shade

dear going out on a limb diary,

if i were to climb a tree and scootch out on a mighty limb, chances are it would break and come crashing to the ground. there goes my big idea. i should prolly try launching my big ones off on paper airplanes first before i get on the big time launch pad huh? if practice makes perfect, well then i oughta have the next phase of things down pat. it is true i don't like change, but this is not exactly as i had planned. well, more wood for the wiener roast.

little green seeds

dear why don't people own more trains diary,

there are private buses and planes. almost everyone has a car, truck, motorcycle and yacht or fishing boat or vessel in between, kids and adults own bikes and skates and skateboards, people even have helicopters and hang gliders, mopeds, golf carts, horses, buggies, donkeys, and we pretty much all came with two legs and 'ned' and 'jed.' but for some reason private trains never really took off. i think a train engine is so powerful and romantic and the tracks are usually always empty. sure, you couldn't do a bunch of turning with your engine, but it would be like that sky ride at the state fair. you could ride your train to one side of the country and get off and have your golf cart waiting and then when you got your business done or you were ready to head on back- just jump into your golf cart and run back to your train and ride it back home to your waiting boat and sail back to your island where you grow marijuana with juan valdez.

a five log morning and a chunk of mushroom prolly

dear amazingly enough diary,

if there is one thing i never thought i'd be, it's looking forward to my dog's next shit. but i do now. he shit all day yesterday. but the most important shit to me is the first one of the day. i know how it feels to not be able to shit- especially when you're all hunched over and pushing and nothing comes out. so when you go piling days upon days upon days on there with no shitting, the poor grump just HAD to be miserable. so now when i see him shit in the morning, it gives me great relief for him. i just know it will be an awesome day. he's always loved to shit. i'm so glad i can help him accomplish that again with his diet change and medication IF he needs it again. maybe i ought to start liking mushrooms. mmm'kay, now that ain't gonna happen. i don't care how 'magic' they are.

hot pants

dear what made you think of that diary,

things are much different now. i just made poor tiny becky get off the bed, from a dead sleep, curled up from a fetal position- so the grump could get up on the bed in her pre-warmed spot. last time i had surgery- they put me in this bad ass gown thing- it was paper- but it was the softest paper i have ever felt. then they came and hooked up these hoses to the sides of it that were pre-fitted with couplings and started pumping hot air in from both sides from a machine that looked like a miniature vacuum that quietly pumped out heated air. this little contraption came with me clear into the operating room- where it was cold as shit and that thing came in nice and handy. so i know the grump must really appreciate it when becky warms up his seat. he always is in a rush to move right in when she moves her meat. ima get one of those meat heaters for the grump and see if that will keep him in his seat longer. he wont wear a gown and he chews at the vacuum.

rats out of my pubLic hair

dear legit diary,

honestly, i cant hardly stand to look at myself anymore. i pass the mirror and i want to throw up. i am so unhappy with the way things are at the moment- it hurts. i know i am the only one who can do anything about this, but being ugly seems to be the only thing giving me comfort. it is a mask i can hide behind effortlessly. living the most depressing thing ever is easier when you look the part and play the roll in character twenty four hours per day. i wish i could take some time off, but i am afraid things would never be the same when i got back. that's why i hate to even take time out for a bath or anything.

that's what i'm talking about

dear fans on low diary,

tell me what the point is of having a fan on low? why have the bitch on. just turn it off. and maybe if you don't want me to have a conversation with the television while i am sleeping- you should turn it off while you're sleeping. i respond to things that seemingly talk to me. and look here, i don't know where that dog picked up on kissing me each time after he was done humping on me- i am fully aware that's something he didn't pick up and learn from you. you'll need to talk to the grump about that issue, but i think it is sweet. maybe you should LEARN A THING OR TWO FROM HIM. just an idea. i am quite spoiled now and i do like that. i think it is time for you to get a hair cut. enough is enough already and we can afford one. be sure to tuck it all up in a hat before you go- as not to freak the dogs out when you come home though. we've had enough stress around here. so if you could have all that done by the time i get back- i might let you live. let's recap. leave the fan alone- i like it on high to circulate the air that comes out of the air duct faster. watch tv while you're AWAKE so the tv can be shut OFF while you're asleep and i don't try and talk to the mother fucker. learn how to  kiss me effectively or don't say one word to me- you do not have the skills to be jealous. and lastly, get a fucking haircut, i checked your wallet- you have plenty of money.

a three log morning

dear the week we won diary,

there has been much improvement over the last week and many changes. just a few moments ago, i am so happy to announce, the grump took his first solid three log shit for me. i almost took pictures for y'all, but didn't- you can thank me later. i've even noticed the ring around his eyes has faded this morning. could it be the magic mushrooms? SHOUT OUT ROGER! excited as i am, it is hard now to even consider sleeping after viewing those three giant solid turds. it almost makes me want to do dishes- but not quite. it is still kind of early for that. yes this is week one and we won this bitch. i paid for it in full with tears. i intend on getting a few more fucking years.

simmer down

dear home for the moment diary,

i feel like i need to paint my nails after i feed the grump his new mushrooms. he's gonna have liver and mushrooms tonight and eggs and mushrooms tomorrow and lamb and mushrooms for lunch and you seem to be getting the picture. the mushroom has the potential to turn off the cancer gene, well some certain mushrooms do. so finding these special mushrooms can present a challenge when mushrooms aren't something that just lay around anyway. but we found them and they are in liquid form and already- which will be very handy to enhance and compliment his meals.

oh dear road tripping for mushrooms diary.

steak burrito supreme- extra sour cream

dear up my ass diary,

the grump really isn't grumpy anymore. not since he's been eating again. it makes me wonder how long he hasn't been eating properly. i cant think about it. that topic makes me pissed off and sad. so anyway, he wont leave my side now. i finally took a bath and he laid next to the tub the whole time i was in the water. he feels good- these days and i sure smell better. off to mexico.

nobody home

dear ringing true diary,

wish heaven had a phone. so i could hear your voice again. i thought of you today, but that was nothing new. i thought about you yesterday, and days before that too. i think of you in silence, i often speak your name. all i have are memories and a picture in a frame. your memory is a keepsake from which i'll never part. God now has you in his arms, i'll keep you in my heart.

the male bag

dear i found a tie diary,

i wrote a letter to david last night. you all know david, but i wont mention his last name. everybody deserves their privacy. i only met david once, but we never had sex- and that wasn't my idea. ida gladly had his baby if he'd wanted me to, or even if he didn't want me to- i think i was ovulating when i met him. i had that warm feeling down there. hell, who am i kidding, i had that warm feeling for like a week after and i'm getting it again now just typing this shit out. but i cant have babies anymore, but i can still ovulate. anyway. i was brushing my teeth for the first time in two days and i thought, ima write david and see if he wants to meet up again and see what's going on. actually it was the grump's idea. so we wrote the letter and sent a few pictures and off it went. SHOUT OUT DAVID! hope you get our letter man!

where do you get yours done bitch?

dear this is the shit diary,

oh my goodness. now that my nails have been a naked canvas of loveliness for all these days and buffed to angelic perfection- they long for a coat of paint i have refused to paint upon them and still i will not poison them with color. i have never seen them so stunning in their bare state and ima keep them that way in honor of my new found depression. it will at least cut down on all the questions i get, "are those your real nails?" or it might not.

first class ass

dear fear factor diary,

being around someone who gets angry at the drop of a hat gets old. the problem with that it is it becomes contagious at times and very easy to snap at all the wrong times. every once in a while (not often- trust me) i have an 'out of body expierence' and i step back and for a moment guilt flows over me. i look around and i see the house a mess or all the dishes in the sink or i pass the only mirror in the house and see myself and i'm like, "ugh, what the fuck are you looking at," or i suddenly smell something gawd awful and realize, "omfg- that's my crotch stinking like that." i know i need to participate in life more. but i don't want to. when did i check out? business is slow. i have no place to go. i can sometimes understand the anger- the free happy ride has expired.

Boo!

estimated time of arrival

dear early in the day diary,

being awake so early in the afternoon will sometimes worry me. it splits the day into a million pieces and makes it hard for me to remember if today was today or yesterday- especially since i've been up once already. have i had the TV on yet? did i eat? did i get the mail? did i... did i... then tomorrow it will all start over again. i tried to get the mail yesterday. that is what finally convinced me it was sunday. almost everything i love is around me today. i guess i cant complain about that. no complaints. none today. that is all behind me now. comfort and quality of life is all i have left to worry about.  

twisted fabric

dear stranger mistakes have happened diary,

every once in awhile you just know when you've fucked up and there will be hell to pay somebody. you just never do know when they will be around to collect. it could be today- it could be tomorrow, you just better keep your peace offering handy. some of us walk around oblivious to when we actually fucked up, but not me. i know. i can tell you the time and the date. my mind never lets go of these things. it doesn't. it keeps score just in case someone needs to know what the score is later. there is no doubt my score is about to be settled once and for all. all of the money in the world apparently didn't cancel my debts. this is a cruel twist of fabric in the big quilt of fate, yes, but a large token of nothing that makes me regret. 

strange jimmy

dear price of love diary,

what if you got all excited and your arm fell off. or how about your leg? that would suck. if something were to happen and that were to go down- i am there for you- just try not to get that excited. later on in the week things may change- you never do know. i try to make an impact wherever i go, but i always wanna leave with my legs. that's my secret goal in the back of my head- even if i hate my shoes. you get more mileage out of a cheap pair of sneakers because they're the last pair of shoes you wanna wear. duh. i wonder who invented crocks. it wasn't me. and if it was i sure wouldn't admit it. shoes with jewelry. that is so stupid. aww, what time is it? i am sleepy. but i am good to go. it's just a  matter of getting it together. i am scoped. i feel like an onion ring. what are you chewing on you little bird. let's pull that floppy lip up and see what you got. lippy. if i could split my screen like that- i'd be a wonder bitch.

achin and begs and hair on my legs

dear t-bone steak diary,

he is hungry for love but i have denied him for the moment. we just had a big meal. he turned to a pillow, which i think is quite rude while i am sitting here and readily available. quite honestly, in all of my years of pleasing my lovers, i've never had one that had to resort to another method at the last minute. but maybe i have yet to meet the right one. after all, there is always tomorrow. i suppose. he is so full of energy- this one tonight. i dunno if i can fight him off much longer. i keep trying to change his mind, but i just lost. he's getting it.

talk dirty to me

dear face to face diary,

moving forward is usually fine by my normal standards. frankly, i've been trying to speed up time for a while. but all of a sudden this week it all came to a screeching halt. wasn't today sunday? i thought it was all day. it just never really felt like it. we had a good day really, non eventful. most of the day we spent in bed, i got humped by the grump and now his newest thing is to growl while he humps me when i ask him to. i say, "talk dirty to me baby," and he really makes it sound terrible. not you or anyone else could convince me that my dog, the amazing and super sexy grump, does not understand every single word i say to him. it doesn't bother me one single bit that i have scratches and bruises all up and down my sides where he hugs me so tightly. part of me wonders how normal it is to allow my dog to hump me, but i figure fuck it, as long as i keep my pants on and it feels good- i might as well keep on doin it.

you left the tv on

dear whole family diary,

now that the grump has his belly full of lamb and green tea, shit you not, and every fucking bowl is dirty in my kitchen, double shit you not, i had a hand breaded smashed pork tenderloin with fresh uncured pickles on a toasty bun and it was pretty buttfucking good- i'll tell you that right now, but i am ready for a nap again- triple shit you not, with my man- the grumpy lumpy king of the road- and i feel bad for becky- not being top dog at the moment- but she'll resume her status in time- and then get showered with so much love she wont know how to act- quadruple shit you not. which is bullshit times a a million. I SHIT YOU THE FUCK NOT.

saving a life- now look- ima hero

dear fucking PERVERTS diary,

damned ass pigs. one mere mention of humping, video and youtube, AND ROGER IS ON THAT SHIT. whodda thunk it. if i do find out the unibomber put that video on youtube- i will kill him- then i will come to peoria and kill roger if i find out he watched it. prolly wouldn't be to hard to find roger either. but i better watch my mouth, because something tails me- roger could find me faster than i could find him. little stawker. hey- lady gaga is the 'mother monster,' why cant i be the, 'mother stawker?' it seems like today is going to be an easy day. according to the air outside- it is a safe day. but now-a-days, everyday is a safe day. i don't even look over my shoulder anymore. alls i see now is a pillow and my dog. i am so glad we all have something more important to entertain ourselves with these days. oooh now look at the sky- it looks as if it wants to cry. now maybe the garden wont die.

FOR THE RECORD

dear and i forgot to say diary,

just because i am 'AWAKE' doesn't mean i am 'UP.' i am still in bed. i plan to stay in bed ALL DAY- and for all of the unforeseen future. i have nowhere to go, nowhere i'd rather be, and nowhere else in the world more inviting... and the grump humps me like there is no tomorrow. my bed is where the action is at this summer. my bed and a box of kleenex DAMMIT. it's a tear jerker. maybe i should have looked in to the steroid psychosis years ago. just sayin.

humping for quarters

dear dreamless night diary,

i got jipped last night. so far anyway, i haven't been able to recall anything that resembles a dream. my cable must have been out. surprisingly- i slept good for sleeping all day yesterday. i was not out of this bed ten whole minutes. it's gonna be that way today too- and tomorrow and tuesday and wednesday and you get the picture. the grump and i are steady staying in bed. the longer he stays in bed and rests with me- the longer he stays around with me. i'm happy with that. he brings his toys up here to hold and i have mine. the unibomber took a five minute video of the grump humping me- which he threatened to put on youtube last night. i consider that exercise- so i just let him- i know it's the steroids. he worked himself into a pant and then slept like a rock baby. i just smiled knowing he loves me and prolly was dreaming about me.

oil based enamel acrylics for ass twats

dear i don't think i am going to paint my nails anymore diary,

since i haven't painted my toes in all this time, i figured i might as well just stop painting my fingers too. i might as well even start eating them again. #kalialogic #bb13 i will never eat my fingers again, altho i'm pretty sure that is what built up my immune system- all the years and years of sucking the germs off my fingers. omg that is the most disgusting habit a person could ever be struck with- other than digging in one's ass or twat. i am not a big fan off ass diggers or belchers. it's OK iffin you need to cough- just don't get stupid about it. sometimes certain body noises scare me. if you speak when i am almost asleep- FUCK YOU. i ain't gonna paint my nails anymore. i don't think i need to. i think everything around me needs a breath of fresh air. i might even start digging in my ass twat.

a powerful cleansing

dear sexual intercourse diary,

the act of conjugating is kind of nasty when you think about it in the sewage form. the whore opens up and the man whore enters. it is a nasty process, or it certainly can be. it sure ain't glamorous like it used to be. at one time in my life i thought the act itself was a beautiful process- the act of procreation. well that was a long time ago. things have really evolved for me. sex takes me to a place where i am not comfortable. a place where all eyes seem to be upon me- yet no hands actually touch me. it is a place where the water feels nice for the moments it is warm- but drains away- dries up- and makes me want to take a bath.

tired driving is drunk driving

dear piss me off and i'll snap your neck diary,

little twig mother fucker. spot on- these are the type of memories that will be etched in my mind forever. part of me wants to get into my car and drive until it quits running. it might not though. i might hit water first. so if i drove towards where there is no water, i'll just need my passport. i got that. no looking back. i don't even want to look forward. i only want to look at the day. if you understand that right now the slate is so open and anything done will be forever stuck in my head- then do it. ok? be sure and do it. that way it'll be easy to remember once again when it's all raw and right there. that is- if i pull over and take time to forget.