chewy chewy


hello,
i am well. 'i'm a sailor', 'i'm a coffin', 'i'm a steamboat', 'i'm a giant'. how have you been? everyone around here seems to be enjoying the almost fall, they are grossly confident and free, there is no truth to what they say, as they dance in a corner with seductive behaviour like a social leper. and now the moon has exploded into galactic confetti, it is lonely for sleeping with everyone.

but at least you know how to put on a show, corner dancer-type! those who robot it will never be free. well my new place is great, i really like the floors in my room. there is a secret removeable panel which i'm pretty sure is meant for storing self-letters if you are me. one of them writes, "floor panel, mom keeps phoning about the u-haul delay, i am fine with the porch, i don't know why she always freaks out on me. oh and my key won't work so i have to scream jennifer's name to get her to open up downstairs, i sound retarded when i scream, pretty sure the neighbours hate me by now. one of these days someone's going to hide inside that little tree forest and tackle me with a net." i have a roommate named crystal who is beautiful and compliments my whiteness with beach babe glow. she is way cooler than a comatose katlah any day. oh yeah, i met a tall blue-eyed french canadian with a horrible accent named greg. his friends also speak with the horrible accent. do i sound like that? he dressed well, he was okay but made me feel alone more than ever, i left early so i could come home to write and cry, how am i doomed to feel this way for the rest of my life? holy shit. i want to pretend some things will stay the same but i romance these thoughts to a fault, and i am not a poet. who is to blame for this? i'm going to the flea market.