There is a desperation in apartment decorating, a need to express the under-laying confrontation of soul versus evident physical change. A survival technique to keep the aimless from going insane. The dark brown and fawns of the color scheme slapped Jodey in the face every time she walked through the door. Her soul was reflected in the earthy tones, her wild nature damning her to constant unconcious attempts at atonement…

That is when the hammer started construction on the trailer next-door. Like a house could be re-built one lot over, like somebody could chose permanence in such an unsettled state. She was beside herself with anticipation of nothing in particular.

I WOULD CONTINUE BUT I’M DRUNK AS HELL. ARBOR MIST= FUSHED FACES AND JOYFULNESS. AMEN.

UNIVERSE,

I don’t have a plan. It went away, faded like relligion against logic. I’m afraid, terrified that there is nothing left. KEEP ME MOTIVATED TOWARD SOMETHING THAT  WILL SPEEK TO ME, MAKE ME UNDERSTAND!

I want to go ice skating again. I wish my skates hadn’t been condemned :(