harvest moon.

i had a wet dream this afternoon
last night was the harvest moon
wish for more love, but there is no room
boom zoom doom boom

i am not a poet

lost your way?

follow the beat. follow your feet. find that place where your feet meet the beat. then stand really tall. don't fucking fall. remember the earth is a rotating ball. days are short. nights are long. on magical days when you drive the traffic lights move to the song.

it would be way funnier.

if it were funny.

skeletons. closets. bouncy balls.

my dreams have been remarkably fucked up lately. today it feels really good to type or say FUCK. my mind is like a big room full of toddlers throwing around bouncy balls.

i had this dream. or maybe it was a daydream. i don't know anymore. unimportant. point is i was fucking thinking about some weird shit. in this dream, this fuzziness, i saw skeletons. i created skeletons. everyone i talked to was dressed in military garb. as soon as I spoke to them they took a hand grenade and exploded it in their chest like those Japanese soldiers in Okinawa. then their skeletons followed me around like I was in a zombie movie. seemingly unrecognizable, i still knew who they were. i recognized their glasses, the shape of their faces, their voices, their hands. i always study people's hands. this one man, i started looking at his hands and then i noticed he still had a heart. it was glowing.

good mourning.

mourn   [mawrn, mohrn]
–verb (used without object)
1.to feel or express sorrow or grief.
2.to grieve or lament for the dead.
3.to show the conventional or usual signs of sorrow over a person's death.
–verb (used with object)
4.to feel or express sorrow or grief over (misfortune, loss, or anything regretted); deplore.
5.to grieve or lament over (the dead).
6.to utter in a sorrowful manner.

does someone have to physically die for a person to mourn them? no. no i do not believe so. it is selfish, of course, to mourn the living. because rather than being happy the person you love is still alive, you are sad that they are not with you.

angry lesbian fights back

scene outside of henry's coffee shop:

angry lesbian smoking. 45 year old burn out dude wearing bogus hawaiian shirt with workboots and nappy long hair. burn out approaches angry lessie to bum a smoke. dialogue:

burn out: "hey good looking."
lessie: "that is not my fucking name."
burn out: "can i buy a smoke?"
lessie: "go fuck yourself."

i return to my book and iced americano. i laugh and make a failed attempt at making friends with angry lessie by shrugging my shoulders and rolling my eyes as he walked away. this may have failed because i was wearing yellow instead of black. hard to say where i went wrong. but i did. so i left.

erratic idiotic behavior by erin l morgan

today i pedaled my happy ass all the way up to 38th street planned parenthood on my bicycle. i took meridian. this was not an intelligent choice. people were passing me at 60 mph. i had a sweaty butt crack. stoop dwellers hollered loudly. i yearned for my ipod to come back to life. i saw a man riding his bike with a baby on the handlebars. things got weird.