words.

etchasketch

there isnt a terrible amount of time that goes by that i dont spend my idle time trying to figure out your signs that it's time for me to go. these unconnected dots i draw lines between connecting unintention to afterthought making shapes in my head that likely would amount to scribbles in others. there are those days that no matter how much time you spend drawing lines between reassuring and truth that they probably wouldn't amount to much more than a picture of an empty promise in my head. there are those days that there doesn't seem any amount of head shaking to erase that picture. so i find other ways to try and scramble that image. anything to make it a little blurry. when these things dont work i pick up the pen and return to drawing lines. lines between garbage and uninspired. lines between shit i wouldn't read if you held a gun to my forehead and third grade prose. lines between push and pull. extend and retract. ask and cut off. and somehow or other in my miswired brain these lines end up a mosaic of reasons i love you most of all.

fridays.

it's always seemed pretty fruitless to thank god for handing you a day that occurs 52 times a year standard and is just as likely as any other day ending in day to be susceptible to murphys law. hand me a day i don't spend the better part of busy sifting seeds of shit out of it before i can pretend the results are closer to lemonade and maybe i'll show you some gratitude.