i pulled her up against me, rested my head on her shoulder.

smelled her neck, her hair.

wrapped my arms around her waist.

felt her weight on me.

woke up because it was just wrong. even if it felt nice.

maybe i can order some pizza for lunch.

i took my sister out to the mall yesterday, she pulled me into a toy store ("i want to find a gun. i want to shoot things.").

we were walking down an aisle, and i kept on while she sort of lagged behind, turned the corner.

there was this little toy sitting in the middle of the aisle, so i figured hell i could amuse her. instead of walking over it, or around it, i allowed my foot to catch it, sort of stumbled over it, made a huge noise.

didnt fall, though. i stood there, looked to my left and there were two kids that had just stoppped and looked at me.

they were watching me, all puzzled like, so i smiled and took a quick step forward, to hide behind the shelf.

i turned around and my sister was standing there, bent over, holding herself up by grabbing her shelf, hand over her mouth, laughing hard at me.

parently she had seen the whole thing, even though i was just going for her to hear the commotion.

oh oh oh, yeah, if anyone could help me, i'd be thankful: back, maybe ten years ago, or a little more, there was thing out, you sat on it, it was sort of triangle shape, and you put your feet on the handlebars. by moving the handlebars, with your hands, back and fro you moved.

anyone know what the hell that was called?

i will draw a picture for the person who can tell me.

thank you.

my cat is asleep next to me.

places i want to visit, soon: wisconsin, maryland, the carolinas, and louisiana.

lately ive been on the road more than ive been home. all this leavin her alone is killing me.

where i wont miss her i can kiss her anytime i want to, yeah thats right where i need to be.

my parents are amazed at my typing speed. which feels weird, because i used to sit and watch my mom type on this old typewriter we had and i was amazed at her speed.

on that machine, if you paused enough, it would click. i would get a million clicks and never would i hear her get a click.

typings musical to me.

type type type.

i want to talk to the girl tonight. i havent, not really, in a couple of days. im worried about her.

i told her once, a few days ago, to not do anything she wouldnt want me to do.

she got quiet. then said "crayon, that's like... the biggest thing you could tell me."

i have a box of crayons. i should color something today.

i would want to be like my grandpa. i wouldnt want to die in a hospital. but i wouldnt want to die at home, because then every time you passed that room you would think "that's where crayon died. that's where crayon last breathed."

i'd want to die away from places, outside somewhere. looking at the sky. feeling the grass.

dont believe ill really have a say in it, though.