Past Participle

In my room I have a box filled with all this stuff I've collected the past three or so years, things from matchbooks to letters to coins- anything and everything. You know the sort right? The crap that is worth nothing but means something to you? One would expect that when you go through such a collection you would get real nostalgic and upset, and I was for a bit, don't get me wrong. But to be honest, the best part about it was enjoying all these items for what they are, and being happy that you are no longer in that place. Not that these were bad times, or times I want to forget, but that now I am in the place I am, and I've done all that; I've been through all that.

Getting drunk makes you warm and staying drunk keeps you warm. Nights where you don't expect to see your breath but you can't even feel your feet and your nose has froze but it's only October; what the hell is January going to be like?

Still trying to find that small bit of hope and reassurance in the bleak, never changing world. Fall fest is over and I have 700 pictures to sort though. Welcome Saturday.

The eye game never really gets you anywhere.

...and while I'm on the subject of coffee

I just found out Pura Vida still has soymilk: rejoice! But it's still nothing compared to this Tel Aviv coffee shop (and their delicious espresso).

speak softly.

Nobody knows the rage of the rampant
steel-metal cars that ravish the road;
stopping only to allow a family of ducklings to cross.

A cool fall morning of drizzle and college classes;
quick glances and glistening eyes play games-
grayed by a fog.