September 2010
4 posts
“I guarantee if I drew a picture of Milo from the Descendents riding a shark...”
– Mark Newell. (Sorry, Mark, I am blowing up your spot)
My sadness is more a burst of love wasted; or, of love that, holed up, has nowhere to leak slowly so instead expands outward from the inside of my chest like an over-full water balloon waiting to explode. My balloon skin swells, but not alarmingly.
There are all sorts of sadness, but this one may best be described as the strange and unique sense of loss that you feel on a Thursday midmorning...
Fall fall fall falling.
Strange how summer already feels like it didn’t happen. Nothing too monumental in mine, minus my first trip to the city and the following two months of terrible luck; awful luck really.
Summer isn’t my season, anyways. Generally speaking, summer is viewed as the lazing months of sweat and beaches. For some reason the unpredictability of those few months makes me anxious and causes me...
