the nation of 'why not?'

Two lines that are floating around my head:

- You are the holy to my ghost.
- Backpack turns to suitcase turns to last-second will.

I just saw Buzz Aldrin dance. The next person is in the Pussycat Dolls. How is this even a fair matchup? TV doesn't make sense. This is why I have the internet.

SNAPSHOT:
Sitting in my father's truck. Market Basket parking lot. It's 6:12, the sky's greying and darkening. Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. I look up and then kind of look around. I was having one of those moments where you get so lost in a book, that the book becomes your whole reality and you have to look up and regather where you are. I stare into space at a few seconds. A girl and her middle-aged father with scraggly hair walk by, they give me a look, the both of them. I look left. There's a black convertible. Two people walk up to it. Man and woman. Asian, both speaking what I believe is Japanese. At least they look Japanese. Just their dress, you can tell. They're all about futuristic stuff. The man's wearing a black trench coat. The woman, in her 20s, is essentially yelling at the man. The sound of her unintelligible ranting is muffled upon a car door slam. They drive off. They leave me here. Reading. I look down and enter the dust bowl once more.

SONG OF DAY. Engine by Neutral Milk Hotel. "For I am an engine and I'm rollin' on..." Mr. Mangum, come back. Please.



Nothin' mo' to write.

~-~