Yesterday Account
So I am here is this room and I keep having thoughts about how I shouldn’t be so cavalier about the world and things and maybe New Yorkers are just jaded but I also think there’s something to it. Do you think you are having fun? Do you know when you’re having fun? Or is it just a label you put on things later. Maybe what’s fun now was really dangerous when it happened. Or worse— polite.
Hot hot hot invisible drip drip drip I’d save it but it’s nothing not even there. Hand washing now means they’re home. Or maybe the shower. I like being in here. And privacy is something to strive for.
Something is starting in the middle of sentences and not ending the right way either. I think books are art. I am for a world in which book are art. And art is books. Fonts change the way I read words. Caress is one of those words. Also names. Like Kennedy.
Diary diary on the screen if what I think is not the stuff that I right that I write. What is stronger in the end, a kiss or a hug? What is stronger— friendship or love? What is it that we want in the end? And at what point can we start burning bridges?
