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upon moving.

yes. oh my fucking god, yes.

I keep getting distracted. On rooftops listening to the blues, at parties, while crossing the street, when i'm supposed to be watching Steve Buschemi's son's band play an abandoned rocket factory. Mid-sentence, halfway through my drink, I'll make the mistake of looking out too far and find myself caught up in the impossibility of it all. And try not to whoop too loud.

1.8 million humans on this funny island, alone. Lives upon lives upon lives.

I'm making a strong effort not to look up and grin as much as I have been; it makes me look a bit new.

Comments

moly:

hoping your lj is as filled/with/highschool drama as mine is.

i'll be reading up on ur lyfe

November 2009

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