so i'm still sick, but i'm feeling better. i have to go to school tomorrow or i'll really be fucked work-wise. i already have a good amount, i'll finish it friday night because i don't do anything on friday nights anyways, so it works for me. found a lot of cds where i had saved my music from my computer before i reformatted the hard drive in 2003. its amusing.

so i'm still sick. i tried to get up for school, coughed all to hell so my mom made me stay home again. so i woke up to a thunderstorm this morning, it was a welcome break from waking up to an alarm clock. so yesterday looked like it was really nice out, i had the window open and it was warm. i listened to explosions in the sky, it fit perfectly. i know that my entries are getting random and incoherent. i need to lie down.

so i figured i should write in here not that i'm somewhat well enough to sit at the computer. saturday the doctor thought i could have a blood clot in my knee, i was in a lot of pain, sat on the couch all day. so no blood clot, infection in my knee. sunday i was up feeling like shit. monday felt worse. better today. saw all the stuff on the conclave and the election of Pope Benedict XVI (16). watched too many movies. i'll write more later.

so i got new contacts and glasses yesterday. drank too much coffee. today is jack's 17th birthday. happy birthday jack. i'm freezing. i don't know how i'm typing this because my fingers are frozen. okay, song for you all to read about how i would feel about something if it happened to me. but it most likely will never happen, so enjoy anyway.




It's three AM, I'm staring at the screen,
Trying to find a way to put in ink, a line
or two to let you know that when,
when your lips get caught on mine sometimes,
I forget to breathe.

It's four AM, I'm staring at the screen,
Trying to find a way to put in ink, a line
or two to let you know that your,
skin's an artist's pastel dream and your eyes bleed
poetry sometimes.

The scar on your chin,
My breath on your skin,
Your smooth loving hands,
That warm, subtle glance,
I'm so glad I kissed you.

Three weeks passed since we sat inside my car.
And watch words hang between us.
Like the pasta from "Lady and the Tramp"
This is classic.

It's Friday night, I'm sewing you a poem,
Weaving my pen through fields of words and
digging past crude compliments and stitch by
stitch language is strewn along the patterns of
perfected as I quilt you in.

Your teeth are the keys,
Of the piano it seems,
Professionally played,
Enchanting.
Everything around you.

And now I'm curling at the edges like a photograph
in flames. Eclipsing bad memories, and lining my
skies with you.
This is classic.

so school sucked like it always does. i don't really feel like writing, i'm too tired to. sometimes stupid songs that you used to listen to make you feel like shit and remind you of why you are still single. good thing say anything never has that effect on me. so this is what it would be nice to have/be like if i wasn't such a
1. loser
2. somewhat "hopeless romantic"
3. lazy




And if i died it woud be fine if i died by your side.
If you could spare one of your nine lives we could ditch this coast, get in my car and drive.
All this time and I can't get enough of you and every promise is true.
It's my favorite pastime chasing after you.
And if i froze here in the sand, my hand cold in your hand, i'd melt in your honor.
I'd be happily slaughtered.
I'm crazy for you.
Mind your watch, my baby.
Morning's come to claim me.
Mind this heart now, angel.
Night's not over yet.
The most magnificent pastime is chasing after you.