the past couple of days haven't been all that grand. downright low, in fact. today was. allright. at least now my floor is almost clean, i have some money in the bank and know that i have twenty nine dollars in quarters. i have to work tomorrow at eleven. i should be sleeping. paul told me today i looked like a siren. he's one charming smootb motherfucker. i found it pretty amusing considering these are bum pants i've been wearing off and on all week. so i drew a picture of him. it didn't look like him so i drew some ladies flocking around him, since that always seems to be the case with charming smooth motherfuckers. a young lady, an old lady, a five year old. that's what he gets for being raised in a restaurant. i developed a random roll of film and got new york city art club trip in a cathedral eleventh grade fun. i took pictures of the fire. i'm called a silly slippery salamandar by the boy i am terribly in love with. i'm writing things i want to read and i'm trying to forget that i know who reads this. i bought a book of blank lines to write in and nice pens. i've used it. i'm listening to the flaming lips. i go from being apprehensive about seventy different things [and apprehensive anxiousness i tell you i can get there like none other] to running off on a tangent that doesn't allieve them but has me focusing on other things. that's my problem. i think too much, i need more distraction. distract me. please.