this summer i got laid off. i edited books about 10% of the time, and nobody cared what i did with the rest, except most of them seemed mad at me. this summer i learned the word "co-dependent" and let it sit in my fridge.
the guy from the verve pipe sits at a desk and writes things that i used to erase and rewrite completely. i bet he got my salary probably & i'd contest he can't be held responsible. the office dog got my desk. that is what i like to imagine. it was my fifth, consecutive, with lake michigan, and my last. i don't see the musical fountain with just anybody. i told you that.
at one point i moved to texas and then didn't. my sister hasn't spoken to me since she eloped. (my sister eloped)
i'm finding when you get comfortable with the new thing, the old thing creeps back up, like, remember when you were comfortable with me? no, i don't. yes i do but leave me alone.
i had nightmares about my old job, followed by nightmares about fungus growing on walls where i sleep, followed by nightmares of kneeling near you and reconciling. this fall i met a lot of people. today is the first day of fall.
i asked my boyfriend to come with me to a house where the president of the board of my new company lives. i joked, they call this richland, mi because the xxxxxx family is so rich. turns out, that family also owns the enormous company where my boyfriend works. and you know, i really like to hear him explain his job to old people. you know when you're hanging out with your mom and she tells the same story like 4 different times in 4 different rooms and you've gotta laugh with her all 4 times? have you ever heard a college lecture twice? i would pay to hear him repeat every dumb line from the big lebowski 100 times. let alone tell 8 different old people that it snowed in new jersey.
an older man who went by 'wally' looked like my favorite college professor. he said, sometimes it's hard to tell if it's love or lust, and is he a keeper? and i said, yeah. and he said, give him & paintbrush and check back in 6 months. that's really what he said. it's a right-brained thing.
the sunset on gull lake was the last one but holy cow. it was warm and i knew it was gonna be the only time. by the end of 'lost and safe' we were actually lost and safe. a couple of times you've said, the books are too weird, why are they your favorite band? also why are we driving aimlessly?
you said, as long as you're still in non-profits, this is gonna be your stitch, and i'm gonna be your trophy boyfriend.
i bought a diet root beer and a root beer at the gas station where i realized i was still wearing my "Hello My Name Is" nametag. at the apple orchard he told me his dad had a friend who went by 'the ace' and he would use a permanent marker on his northface jackets to create a kinda erasure poem that just said 'the ace.'
this menards is empty as hell you guys. took a sick picture on my disposable. read more