we could live like jack and sally
let's start over --

the other night on duty i used a pay service to try to find her. my final step towards absolute creeper status. i tried everything i could think of, but i couldn't find a damn thing. birth certificate, death certificate, obituary -- it's as if nothing exist. the closest match i could find died in los angeles back in two thousand one. it's a year and three thousand miles off, but it's the closest match throughout the entire country.

if i were lied to, lied to about something such as this -- i don't even know. i've letters from her, a letter from her grandmother -- but i can't find her to save my life.

and that bothers me, because, lately, sometimes i feel like it's the only thing saving my life.

i bought a bicycle today -- and it's making me pretty ridiculously happy. i went for a ride around a little after sundown and it brought back an excessive amount of good memories. had you have been here i would have given you ride a on the handlebars; rolling past the wet, green yards and pink-purple sky.

sorting through my massive compact disc collection also makes me happy -- finding old favorites and new alike.

'catastrophe keeps us together' - rainer maria
'push bar man to open old wounds' - belle and sebastian
'take this to your grave' - fall out boy
'stay what you are' - saves the day
'crash' - dave matthews band
'eudora' - the get up kids

i really want to publish something, but the publishing world is so tricky/scary. it's terrifying to turn over your hard work to someone just looking to make a quick buck.