Many moons cut my heads wide open.

nights.

We must need a break by now.

Images from a recent trip to florida. There are lots more coming... I dont know when... And probebly not here...

what now? where to?

I dropped all my leaves in the fall*

*didn’t make a cent at market.

My birthday is in the early spring.

This is, many times over, the winter of my 21st year.

There was something that I was thinking, which, originally, was more in reference to this, an actual season, than what these preceding ideas would attempt to impart on you.

Pat finally said it out loud, almost word for word from the stock ticker function running across my frontal lobe.

It’s nice to have him around to do this reading sometimes. I couldn’t possibly compute all of that binary, and I never did get good at making out the streaming information backwards in the mirror.

"I feel like I’ve been sitting in the same position for a really, really long time."

The following week we left for a 2500 mile road trip. The truck was overflowing with boxes of useless home decor. We were so loaded with fake fruit, ornamental dishes, waxy plastic plants, and gold colored Styrofoam frames of mirrors that our seats couldn’t, or at least wouldn’t, recline.

It’s as if the vehicle was one big blind spot that was expressly designed to manufacture cricks in the neck. A mobile Freudian nightmare painting* with peep holes for eyes so that we could watch the passing landscape through five states… completely undetected**. We would have gotten away with it to… if it weren’t for those meddling kids.

On the way home we did discover that the seats were heated.

*You know the one… a sleeping virgin… a shadowy monster defined by twin ocular beacons glowing orange through the haze of the background.

** Does this piece need restoration, or is it just my blunted palette?

Young boys in the suburbs... young boys in the suburbs have only violent and impure thoughts... but in a boys mind, violence and impurity manifest through an entirely different process, with an entirely different outcome than any other segment of the population.

Sometime in fourth or fifth grade, we became enthralled with the Kennedy assassination. (It lasted about a month)

I fully intended, at the age of ten or eleven, to create and market a game in which the main goal was to assassinate JFK. It was more involved than all of that (what with all of these potential characters and alternate endings), but you know... weird.

I remember being at mikes house... yeah, mike must have been behind the whole thing.

We also tortured our fare share of insects and spiders, threw sticks at squirrels, hid stolen pornography and tobacco in stashes all around town, and constantly fought with fists while swearing at each other… unless a mother was present.

Its communications like this that…

Now I do it until it hurts. I say everything to one person who dosn’t want to hear it… in so many words just begging me to shut the fuck up.

Text message templates (pre made statements that come with my phone to help you put off… handle… keep at an arms length… I have made several big mistakes… I get sick at all the wrong times… we suffer at the hands of our information age… we are crushed in the jaws of this monster and what’s left, settles in some beast's stomach…

I love you! see you later.

See you at

I’m late. I will be there in 10 min.

Call me at work.

Call me later.

Sorry I missed you. I was in a meeting. What is up.

I am here.

I am late and will be there in __ minutes.

Talk to you soon.

Where is the meeting?

Where are you?

When can we meet?

Call me when you get this message.