My father is a compulsive clinically depressed anorexic
cross-dressing gun-selling Republican who wants our
government to murder everyone unamerican.
His energy has become even weirder lately.
I have to conciously create my future life through action.
I have to be aware of what I'm becoming so that I NEVER
become like THEM.
It is so difficult to love some people. And it hurts too
much to feel any sort of hatred.
I dyed my hair. It's shiny and strawberry blonde.
I saw a cricket and followed it. I wondered what it's like
to be a cricket.
I saw Ben the self-loathing guitar player from my high
school art class and genuinely smiled at him over my coffee
as he gave me a harsh look, which amused me.
I stole chocolate milk by tricking a lunch line lady and
running away. It was silly.
There's an old man with a long weatherworn beard who rides
his bike around Santa Rosa with a cat resting on his
shoulder. I love them.
In anthropology class we watched a movie about Koko the
gorilla that was the cat's pajamas (translation- really
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