christ! christ! christ!
we were running from the middle of the road to the sides (left and right) and then back to the center again, sort of in the manner of a wave from a physics book: maybe a, um, a redshifted frequency. just peakin' and troughin'.
i was fucking bawling by the end of snow falling on cedars and it wasn't even a good movie.
normal people, everyday people like you and me find money to feed their habits.
death's pretty imminent, yeah. we look up and the sky is blanketed with night, people, and fucking stars. doesn't this stink of unwashed metaphor to you? in the poems and songs, the stars come out at night--
a manifest of destiny. stars come out as we say they shall.