At 5:30 am:

It is cold.

Argh

Sun?

WHAT HAPPENS AT THIS HOUR?

I forgot.

----

There must be something interesting going on in my life.

I'm looking for something relevant.

----

Echoes of familiar conversation

"This is too poetic" giving typed work (Times New Roman pt 12) a once over.

"And the ideas.Immature." added for good measure.

Amusement struggles with pride.

"I could," as if it is a by chance possibility "tutor you."

"Do you make it a point to be an asshole?"

summer lingers on, strangely enough.

it's april and we should be barraging into a cold autumn, followed by a cruel-to-my-toes winter.

my desires have dwindled dully into this as i stare blankly in my wardrobe:

something black, drapey and asymmetrical with lots and lots of pockets to conceal secrets/sweets/extra socks/random keys to nowhere. maybe a hood.

something that twirls.

yes, i think i need a death eater's cloak this winter.