why is the air raid siren going off? should i be duck & covering? or did i get my shotgun out prematurely? its always impossible to tell. that is the lesson nine eleven (9-11) taught me. last night i went out with aaron, phillip, stephanie, ivana, & eventually met up with others. sarah was looking super cute with her green owl glasses. phillip & aaron ditched me eventually, & then when ivana & stephanie went to bed, i walked home alone. or more specificially, drunk & alone. i skinned my knee. at home i cradled the telephone unable to puzzle out how to make jenny call me.
boiling lobster. even crustaceans scream, says dorthy, why oh why can't i? i dream of helicopters with gold crowns. there is so much of my life i don't remember. like childhood. doesn't that concern anyone else- this inability to recall? there isn't any recollection of an inception, & that is suspicious. & i never remember last night. every conditional ends up as evidence supporting nihilism. i'm the fiber optics at a suicide hotline, today. or badly translated latin. fuck, i'm even superman's funeral.