Maybe you're hiding out in my mom and dad's back yard, by the apple tree. I used to set up a tent under that tree in the summer and write all day.
It made me cry last night, dummy. It came up out of no where. I was watching the pilot episode of six feet under with Ida and Molly and Evan, and a single fragment from the music playing over the closing credits made me cry like I did when i was little. When I get toward the end of crying I do this thing where I breathe in and out in a series of little gasps. My mom would always rub my back and say "Deep Breaths, sweetheart. Deep Breaths." I pulled the blanket over my head and pushed the heels of my hands into my eyes and tried to breathe like a grown up. I hate crying.
You were supposed to be here six days ago so I could give you this postcard. You missed the Carissa's Weird show. You better be back in time for Le Tigre.
It's summer. We have so many things to make fun of. We have so many girls to daydream about but never speak to. We have so much gravy to pour over things. I can't do it all by myself.
continued and bunch fisted support from Blighty. our lighthouses provide beacons that guide safely and the chirp-chirp-click of our morse code machine is relentless in its determination to be heard cutting through the country-rock saturated air-waves.
we're as helpless and useless as ever, and just as unwavering and dogged in our support.
and you just know he was seduced by that "one-week-astronaut" summer-camp, dontcha?!
cheer and hugs
i,L&L
xYz
Posted by: fire3500 at June 4, 2003 12:26 PM