| I don't get it.
All of these twitters, facebooks, myspaces, etc... should all just be mashed up into one giant
"Blog-o-Twitter Video-Instant-Message 2.0"
Anyways, send me a message and I'll add you as a friend to my Facebook (but only if I know you and like your blog).
Bye.
I'm off to Facebookland. |
| |
| "in the sky, at dusk: a maelstrom of orange sherbet and soft gray." Michael. |
| |
| 4:35 AM Neon. Traffic Lights. Green glow. Meatpacking district. Drunk NYU girls. I feel refreshed. I've slept for only three and a half hours, but I feel wired -- alive. It's dark out. For a moment, I'm unsure of what time it is...or even where I am. Usually, I'm going home at this hour. This morning, I'm going to a strange airport that I've never been to before...to a strange place I've never visited before...to see strange people I've never met before. I open the window a crack and feel the cool breeze. The wind licks me, and it feels good. I stick the tips of my fingers out the window, and let them trail in the wind for a while. Fingerprints smudge the view of the sky. After all these years of staunchly defending my night-owl tendencies, I suddenly realize that I'm a morning person. |
| |
| His nether region was being stretched like a pound of flesh colored taffy. |
| |
