busted headlight


shit, i'm glad you are painting.
i was thinking about that the other day, looking up
at the collage you did for the breakroom..
the girl with the bass.. (the guitar, not the fish)
you drew that
and i was wondering if you were still painting..
thats really good.

i'm writing and
not doing much of anything elese
but thats good enough.
i got a new voice recorder for my ipod and i'm going to make a cd
of my poetry
thats good.
you should draw me a cover..really that would
be cool.
do it
do it

so i guess i'm doing alot.
but right at this moment..
im sitting here remembering the leaves and the trees
that's what it sounds like here in the patio door
open and stuff.
i get lonely here.
i watch the golf players and listen to
tom tom club and the cure
and feel pitifully old.
im all out of pot.
and so my day off is boring..
i usually get high and write poems
and listen to jazz and think off all these cool things
i want to say to you
and everyone elese..
then the pot wears off
and im just pitifully old again.

eh..anyway

im reading lots!
sylvia plath, bukowski, the history of television,
on the road..(again)
and a big anthology of poetry.. with lots of
hip hop and shit.
i like it..but it all mixes up like a big poetry gumbo..
with my juices inside poluting it all up.
i remember bits a pieces
and put them in the wrong order
and its quite surreal..
sylvia plath has mary tyler moore hair
and i want to fuck her even more..
jack kerouac is busting a sick rhyme..
and lenny and squiggy are in the backseat
smoking a blunt with alan ginsberg.

hah. thats real cute.

so anyway..
please write too..
and see you next sunday..where?
you choose
not too far away
i got a busted headlight..