the days of reconciliation are upon us.

this is a day off, an off day. budweiser, budgetel, bukowski, all that.

i have raisin bran and hot dogs. i should be all set. except.

i could hear a million things, but my mind won't stray from the gin blossoms song i heard on the nineties at noon. i'm trying now to focus on the good life.

a letter for an obscenity, a song for an emotion, a soda for a yearning. replacement is in this season.

bob said: money doesn't talk; it swears. i say: our destitution suits us fine.

the newspaper had excerpts from a soldier's journals from iraq. all he could talk about was how hot it was.

there is nothing as pure as a flaw.

i wish i could take this music in the bathroom. hm. more on that later.