sometimes you sit next to a cold cold window and smoke a semi-stale cigarette with pavement on in the background and you crack a beer and maybe really this living alone thing isn't so bad isn't so bad isn't so

heatwAvEs

i'm sitting in a room that's full of leftover heat from another sunny sunny summertime summer day in brooklyn, with a bag full of laundry that came out of a dryer like an inferno, zippers burning skin

i'm trying to think about where i'm going to live in 3 weeks time and i'm not having much luck so far, but i'm listening to some music and i feel a fan at my back and my desk is full of shit and i guess it'll be okay one way or the other or maybe i can just

i went to maine and my friend's brother had a yurt in a wooded yard for his own living space. i'm thinking about that a lot

stuff:
1)yup
2)maybe
3)yup

work-a-day freewrite

pick up the doorknob from the ground and lay it by the side. pick up the pieces of that and this and that and this but don't forget where you put them or you might be found out. take a part of a thing and place it next to a part of another thing and watch as small motors whir with a whirring that might wake up a neighbor. things might take to the air or stroll low across the ground as it were but you'll get to find out if anything can move, anything at all. because if it can't then what's the point really? what's the point if nothing can move?

sometimes things just feel like they are standing still. I guess that is something we should remedy