i didn't stop writing.
i just got self-conscious about..here.
i completely lost myself for a short period of time.
being 17 and insanely in love and then completely fucked will cause this sort of dreary apathy.
so now i'm just unaffected.
i forgot how to feel but i didn't forget how to write.
i suppose what i meant is -
i learned how to tell myself what not to feel.
i think i may start over.
at any rate.
operation art fag art mag in full force.
we don't know what to call it though...
there were more but i've lost the sheet.
the other night i had a dream...about pulling flowers up and the bulbs being attatched to the heads of children.
speaking of children alex and i are trying to write a children's book and..
so many big ideas.
i'm just a kid.
with the flu.
last night i walked into a house of boys i grew up with.
no one there slightly under a wavering consciousness.
down the stairs,
in the back of a room,
a pair of glass doors.
i pushed them open and
there was the most attractive boy
in a black suit
and we left
and played golf video games at a truck stop
and drank coffee and watched the news
and we talked about politics for nearly an hour
it's so odd because we've been around eachother for years
and there's never been..this..thing..and..
and right before we're about to leave forever
i start looking at him this way
honestly, after typing all this..
i feel like a complete idiot.