move-ment
2007-08-03 6:53 p.m.

the new house, its name: Shrimp Fest.

do you find that annoyingly whimsical? i'm not sure i can help anymore. i'm realizing my limits, they are irregular.

this house is huge. it has lots of rooms which are all painted different colors. i love it and you should visit.

my roommates have allowed me to play amy winehouse loudly. thanks, boys. you know how it is to get settled, that uncomfortable merging period, that loss of privacy.

a project coming up next week enhances puffy bags under my eyes. i'm going to sleep on this chair. whose chair is this?

during change and upheaval, you go back to things you know: your music, your batman cup, your favorite sandwich. i also started thinking about adam, because there is so much distance--

it's entirely harmless, i might as well imagine ron livingston, there's no contact.

it's over, everything's gone, except memories. like a rotting body, everything has dissolved except the little silver fillings in our teeth--remembering those minutes and movements. i would have liked a steady skeleton, too. and a real heart. the reliability of muscles, the cushion of fat. i would have liked the whole body with you.

the boys are moving things and i feel i must help them.