WE BURN THE BOOM BOX EVERY NIGHT
First of all, some news. I have real bangs again and am very happy with them. Spring break has come and gone, taking with it a failed attempt at traveling to Toronto, whose highlights included a gang of flirtatious Meadville boys, a lot of night driving and Velvet Underground, a few lost hours in Buffalo, the frozen-over Niagara Falls, a scary bar called WITCH DOCTOR, many cigarettes, and an almost instantaneous return to Pittsburgh. If you want all the details, you'll have to get them out of me in person. Next week I'm going to Chicago for the Associated Writing Programs conference. I'll be living in the same house for another year, hopefully with more stringent programs of dish washing and bathroom cleaning. I just got a 100% on an eighth grade math test I found. I'm finally feeling more confident about poetry, which is good because I don't know how much longer that could have lasted. I applied to teach poetry at the Governor's School of the Arts over the summer and will find out whether I got the position in a few weeks. I went to visit a healer and she made a potion out of flower essences for me. The Scene Creamers are playing a show on Easter Sunday, which I will attend with the stragglers from some friends' dance party the night previous. The new Unicorns album, "Who Will Cut Out Hair When We're Gone?" is keeping me relatively happy for the moment (so FUCK anybody who calls them insincere! BEN!). I'm looking for another roommate. I'm looking for a sublettor. I was in the middle of a serious depression for the past month, but it seems to have gone away. Pittsburgh is warm. I have a picture of a crying baby pinned to my sweater in an attempt to be both aesthetic and sincere. (SINCERE!) Sometimes I wonder.
First of all, some news. I have real bangs again and am very happy with them. Spring break has come and gone, taking with it a failed attempt at traveling to Toronto, whose highlights included a gang of flirtatious Meadville boys, a lot of night driving and Velvet Underground, a few lost hours in Buffalo, the frozen-over Niagara Falls, a scary bar called WITCH DOCTOR, many cigarettes, and an almost instantaneous return to Pittsburgh. If you want all the details, you'll have to get them out of me in person. Next week I'm going to Chicago for the Associated Writing Programs conference. I'll be living in the same house for another year, hopefully with more stringent programs of dish washing and bathroom cleaning. I just got a 100% on an eighth grade math test I found. I'm finally feeling more confident about poetry, which is good because I don't know how much longer that could have lasted. I applied to teach poetry at the Governor's School of the Arts over the summer and will find out whether I got the position in a few weeks. I went to visit a healer and she made a potion out of flower essences for me. The Scene Creamers are playing a show on Easter Sunday, which I will attend with the stragglers from some friends' dance party the night previous. The new Unicorns album, "Who Will Cut Out Hair When We're Gone?" is keeping me relatively happy for the moment (so FUCK anybody who calls them insincere! BEN!). I'm looking for another roommate. I'm looking for a sublettor. I was in the middle of a serious depression for the past month, but it seems to have gone away. Pittsburgh is warm. I have a picture of a crying baby pinned to my sweater in an attempt to be both aesthetic and sincere. (SINCERE!) Sometimes I wonder.
