You know that feeling when you're digging in your pockets--maybe at the checkout stand or a public restroom--and you hear something fall out and hit the ground but you have no idea what it was or where it is now and you're standing there staring at the floor twirling in place looking for it and you still can't find it and there are sevgeral people waiting for you to hurry up and find it and move?


Oh. Allright then.

One more thing--
Midst casual sex sabbatical, I've come to the realization that I might be very, very scared of boys. Maybe. On any account, there is a boy that likes me and I grippa like him but for some reason I can't just holla back and he's startin' ta chill.


It’s strange to think
that once I thought
the srangest thing
that one could do
was eat a pear
down to the stem.


[p.s.--Seattleites, for the love of god, don't miss this.]