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10.27.03 - 2:14 p.m.

ah that flighty feeling that could either be too much coffee or getting things done. I like to think it is both. I am wanting to write non stop today and i am wanting to write letters and today is one of those days where i want everyone i know in my room talking just so that i can sit in a chair and look at the way they move their hands and wait until one of them makes eye contact with me so that i can smile at them and they will smile back and then someone will bring me something sweet and too cold to drink and then someone will bring me something hot to drink and then someone will bring me something salty and then someone else something sweet. You know that feeling? I want to be consuming but also creating. Maybe its the weather but i think it is also too much coffee and maybe the fact that i almost gave up smoking but last night was window and almost rain and nothing goes better with windy and almost rain than a cigarette. Argue with me on that one, go on. Geez! It hurts like an ache in the middle of my stomach wanting to say so much before i slip back into the warm palm of this city that makes everyone the same height and the same color. Living here makes me want to say so much but nothing monumental...it makes me want to say hey, you! and hey you! and hey you! and have all of you look at me and please, let one of you be cute because i am missing boys and i am missing girls and i am missing all of the things that used to distract me. Everything else distracts me here. Everyone keeps saying that it has been so long since ive been away but it feels as if ive been gone for fifteen minutes. There is school and reading and bed and school and breakfast and shows and showers and brad and alison and school and oh! that boy on the bus! and hey, the leaves are changing and they are gold and people that shouldnt be in love with me are and people that should be arent. There are all the ideas that i am not doing my part to cosmically align myself with the right people and there is the thought that there are some people that are missing out and there is the thought that i am missing out and i wonder everything virginia woolf might have said if she had computers when she was working on stream of concsiousness writing. I dont even want to think about it. And of course, there has been the frog and all of the crickets in our house, there has been the ten bucks that johnny stole and threatens to pay back but doesnt and there have been things on my to do list that i have been meaning to do and today i did some of them and i am hoping that i can finish before it is time for lunch and alison tells me a story that will slow me down because thats what happens when our lives stick to other peoples lives and for a moment or a day or a week we are carrying them along too and cant keep up with everything that we might be seeing. I wish that Jump little children would play a show on my porch. I think that there might be nothing better than that. And i dont think i would want anyone else to come and i would want them to sleep in the living room and never want to go anywhere else. And i feel like if i could i would web everyone into our house at rockville and have everyone talking to everyone else and it would seem that the people that were important to you were the most important thing. And there are the people that dont know you that seem, sometimes, like the most important people in the world. And you wish that you could tell them that and you wish that there was a way that you could explain that without it seeming weird. Sometimes i wish that was my magic power. If i could only explain what it is that makes me want to stand next to you; that makes me want to go to your house for thanksgiving and then eat at McDonalds instead. I wish that there wasnt always those weeks of testing where you decide whether or not you want this person in your life because i am always afraid that i am going to fail and i know that i need to be there. There is a sense of always wanting to be everywhere and with everyone. None of this pertains to anything and its gone just like that, its gone. Just like that.

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