DC Tap Water

Hot days make you want to stay inside, where the air moves artificially. Crumbs on a plate. Audio is my favorite. Newspapers pile up during the week. A giant pot of beans benefits from the addition of corn. End tables can be moved easily. A sandwich in a box reminds me of you last night at dinner. An undefeated person should think about not playing anymore.

Consumption's claimed his life and we dare not miss the sight

Exhilaration
Surprise
Striving
Sharing
Mastery
Bliss

That you weren't wrong

So if life is so hard, what makes it worth the while? It's the people, it must be. These people everywhere, I love them, they're imperfect and so worthy all the same, or because of it.

And how I missed her but then she would say these magic things that floated in and out and in my head. They were little things but that nothing was precious, it's trivial, but together these things accrete into everything that you have together, really a huge collection of tiny things. That's how I came to think of it, anyways.

I found it so funny that I could hang with them even on subjects that I didn't care about, or TV shows I hadn't watched in years. Could I help but interpret this as evidence of some kind of social intelligence now in my possession? It didn't used to be like this, high school was a long time that I don't remember three quarters of.

I was reading a Bret Easton Ellis novel, which I didn't understand at all. It was about people whose lives have become completely empty, and the flashes of human emotion that seep through into their days at the cracks. The emotions, when they're present, don't seem natural at all because the default state is a void. His next book was better by far, even considering the dark themes and the parts about people living empty lives, it felt warm and supple by comparison with the icy, nihilistic rigor of the first novel. Poor Bret, I'd have to say. It must be awful to even be able to write emptiness so realistically. I'd much rather not be able to write well about empty people. It might rub off if you're not careful.

sake

Spring is in the air
Nothing's really fair
But I don't care

Robert Frost's lines
are often filled with rhymes

don't worry about it

silly poems are my middle name

The floating yellow apparitions

in the black

Are windows.

Not windows on the darkness in

my soul,

but windows on North Shore houses.