all you people can’t you see can’t you see

a thousand eyes blinked yellow off and on, off and on, as i peered up the street, beating irregular and overlapping intervals of time, sectioning off pieces of the fourth dimension slice by slice and i wondered how many times they blinked in a night, how many times they’d blink before i was supposed to wander into my history midterm at 11 tomorrow (well, today) with a bluebook and a pen

phantom planet is playing on lower sproul tomorrow! i like rain of the light misty variety. of course, huge fat drops are fun to swim through as well, but you’re more prone to terrible sickness by playing in that kind of rain. once a bunch of us went to the roof of this building to watch the lightning–i stayed even when it started raining, even when it started pouring, even when pink-purple-white tendrils flashed overhead, rending the soupy sky; it was like swimming, it was like the air had spawned water and suspended between earth and sky the raindrops shimmered in the roof lights and i could knock them about as i pleased, splashing and splashing through

i derive much pleasure from knowing that i can go outside and play chess with myself in the rain

yeah i think i’ve gone on and on (with probably the exact same words) about that before

i yell more than i sing. by that i mean, when i sing, it’s just yelling, but i’m conscious about pitch, that’s all. i don’t know if that’s the “right” approach to singing. mrs. isola said it was, sr year (“singing is controlled screaming, that’s all”–i found much glee in that)… i like being heard

okay i do yell (and speak/scream/laugh/whine) more than i sing, but that isn’t what i originally meant

i say everything here (and maybe i do it in person, conversing, as well, i don’t know, i’ve never paid attention) in this self-mockingly serious tone, as if i was trying to acknowledge that it wasn’t serious at all, what a contradiction. i seem to love contradictions too much for my own good

sleep would be nice right now

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