feel your pulse.

that steady thunkthunkthunkthunk.

take your hands, take them and place them on your ribs, the side of your body.

feel yourself inhale and exhale.

the ribs move outbackinout.

you're alive.

as am i.

i do laundry.

i fold and hang and remove lint and rarely use that cup for the detergent.

i dont know, yall.

i'm wearing some damn good jeans right now.

i didnt realize how good these jeans were. see, i just picked out the first thing i got a hold of.

they fit nicely (and i do mean nicely, if you get what im throwin your way and i think you do) and they're faded and... the one thing is, i dont know if i could wear my boots with them.

i cant believe i have boots.

heh, all i need now is a huge ass belt buckle.

clothes i washed today: an old old thirft store bought shiny gold jersey with black stripes on the sleeves. four hawaiian shirts. three blue jeans. one green shirt i got from a contest. no, wait, one green shirt and one white shirt i got from a contest. an old jersey.

other stuff, too, but i forget.

i'm drying crap, too.

ive got such a damn exciting life, right?

right.

late sunday friends are having a party. ive been requested to, and i quote, "drop by for a minute".

heh, not stay as late as possible. not spend the night crash on my couch.

just come by for a minute.

and i like that, really.

it's like... they know i'm good for a short period of time.

i'll hop in unannounced, like a surprise guest on a talk show, make them laugh, drink some drinks (non alcoholic cause im like that yo), and leave.

and they'll be all wistful once i go, you know.

"oh that crayon... should've stayed five more minutes..."

sighs all around. nods.

the room will get quiet for a minute as each and everyone in that place remembers their own crayon memory.

tears might be shed.

but probably not.

and people, im freaking bored right now. not watching tv. someone email me.

please?

i will... do... something special.

maybe.

cmon.

now, im not one to beg, so ill leave it that.

thanks.