lxforever

Trike-like. Low blow. Rattle-free. Every month except January. Shay Bourne and Christmas wreaths and Bethlehem. Mumbai. Thailand. Trapped on the way up. Can you make it more yellow. Well more orange. Well still yellow. Yellow. Was that really all nine years ago? Yellow sweaters yellow paper lights admission bets. 31 on the 13th! 31?! Maybe you should replace that lint trap. Static. Clingon. Audience with the pope / gonna have to wait / how you gonna win / without within? Cough. Cold dust-filled brown gray desert. Arizona? Desert cough? Oregon? SF? St Louis? Boston? Madison. (Chicago in Feb…?) Less blog more twitter (but isn’t that over?). And the infinite… What kind of a yellow is that? Impossible shit storm. Our dear leader-elect of the Free World. All three names. Playoffs and crazy pictures with hats. First life. Pinatas and shrimp and cats. Too many planes. 65 degrees. Hot secretaries and cold alcohol. My Friend Frank. Freddie? Crazyface? BAM! Can that splat be more real. This Is. Your Brain Off Drugs.

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Sorry about that. I’m hoping by writing whatever I want instead of what I meant to, I’ll start posting and stop abandoning. Vamos a ver. In the meantime, happy December, and happy almost-31 to my dear darling Jeffrey Jason. Ciao!

This journal was posted on Thursday, December 11th, 2008 at 9:48 am. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.