Saturday, April 14th, 2007
I don’t have the red socks that have the three holes in them anymore. I lost them on the way to NOLA. Both of them. Not at the same time, mind you. They didn’t go out together like some suicide pact. I lost them seperately. More like Where the Red Fern Grows. They were old, [...]
Tuesday, April 10th, 2007
You don’t write. Or you don’t think you do. You journal, or write your dreams. Little poems are dressing the book covers and sticky-notes in your cube. But you don’t write. Little words escape your lips that only you hear. Or you think. Ears trap the conversations and sounds around you. Cataloging and sorting all [...]