you are in high relief i have carved you out from the marble of your beliefs i can see your cracks so clearly now are you crumbling on my account i won't let you fall away you are shard of glass the one we shattered when we were drunk off our asses we were afraid to set foot on the floor so we were trapped in bed unable to get to the door i won't let you fall away it's your saving grace you are iron to my yielding face i can't let anyone else take your place i don't hold that key and i've caving in and i only deny my feelings for you while you deny all of our pitchings and reelings too now i'm overboard you won't save me, you won't hang on anymore but i won't let you fall away
Year 01
In the “freaky” category, i returned to the apartment from my PiNu meeting to be greeted by a strange scent. Puzzled, i searched (through our two rooms) for Matt, having passed him on my way to the meeting. However, he was nowhere to be found. Attributing the weird smell to the windows being closed while the heat was on, i logged onto the internet, opened some windows, and headed to the bathroom.
In the bathroom, i found the tub full with a murky blue water. The scent connected; it was Ajax cleanser. I had a panicked moment where i thought i had got up to run a bath during my earlier nap, having dreamed of one, but i honestly wouldn’t have known where to find the cleanser. Then i thought for a moment that Matt had drowned himself, but either way i wasn’t too keen on reaching a hand into the tub. So, i just let it sit there. The water level does not appear to be going down, and in a position similar to my stance on the quarter in the toilet issue, i refuse to submerge my hand to toy with the drain without something like a nuclear-waste-disposal suit on.
At least it’s a clean smell…
In a heartbreaking turn of events, some young man was just directed to my site after searching on the phrase “How to wear a Jock Strap.” Not only does he not know how to wear a jockstrap now, i fear that he might suffer from an indifference to dating and an urge to write down everything he feels so that random people on the internet can read about it. Good luck with that jockstrap, son.
life is yummy. I am blasting Debussy’s la mer and drinking peppermint tea from a mug while reading about 19th century german history and wearing my favourite brown sweatshirt. the windows are closed, because it is crisp. i think i might have a spice cookie. yum