when i was little i would take a bucket of chalk outside into the court and draw streets and a gas station (always in front of the thorne's driveway) and a candy store (always in front of the jenkins' driveway) and other stores and my house with parking spots and i'd ride my bike around deliriously until it got so dark i couldn't see the lines on the pavement anymore. i liked to play in houses with cardboard boxes for beds and the musty smell of yellowing magazines stacked up in the corner of a closet. can you remember what it was like to be four years old getting ready for your best friend to move away looking up at the same counter that thirteen years later you'd be looking down on getting ready for your best friend to turn sixteen? can you remember what it was like to talk to photographs on a refridgerator and the smell of summer rain sitting on folding chairs in a garage with the door wide open? can you remember the feel of worn cotton tickling your face as you pull a costume over your head, and why does SHE always get to be the princess? it's her house, that's why. the crown wouldn't fit on your head.

sometimes i pick up those scraps of cotton from the bowels of my closet and press them to my cheek just because i can remember. sometimes i feel like if i forget i won't know who i am anymore.

past future

last five entries:
blisters and bruises - 03.18.08
dorsey - 03.13.07
finding peace - 02.02.07
unintentional clean slate - 09.11.06
natural born cyborg - 06.23.06