this points to me being completely open and relying on my words to save me.

but, eh, i dont believe in omens, do i?

the beauty of a written word, i tell you what.

i dont mean poems or writing writing, i mean the actual written word. sometimes you, or whoever, can write a word that maybe ugly as hell, but there, written down, scrawled out in half assed cursive, it becomes its own little work of art.

a picture. a sculpture.

yes.

and and and what else...

done me some working this morning. wasnt too bad.

what's horrible is when youre sitting in a room with windows and someone really important is talking to you and you can see a crane.

not the bird.

it happened today.

and of course i wanted to watch the crane.

i mean, cmon, its a crane. its big. it picks up heavy objects. it wobbles...

so im nodding my head, but my eyes keep flicking. and then the crane moves!

hell yeah, look at it, its picking up a big long thing! watchwatchwatch... there... whoooo its swinging!

look see look the guys, there, they're going to get the big long thing! the crane's lowering it!

im gonna eat lunch outside today where i can see the crane.