a green interlude

he published the photos on a website, relinked through his blog, and was trying to think of how he could fit in something along the lines of a lifetime of regret. everything he put here was a sort of instant scrap that while not bad wasn't really more that what it was, like a wall. the photos were from a trip he had taken with his little brother up in sf a month ago. they had gone to see deerhoof, electrelane, and sm&jicks. he started to write a little post, he wrote this way because he didn't want to put here how he really wrote, it was too dangerous for now. after typing a minute or so, he read it back to himself,

a shot from up in sf a month ago while my little brother and i were up there to see sm&jicks deerhoof and electrelane. all three were great, we were the first at both shows, and front row all the way. we stayed at the adelaide hostel, though we had a room, it was an okay scene, small mountains above yr avg hotel. the shot to the right here seemed gently perfect at the time when i actually saw it, and now it comes off like maybe its a piece of art. too bad chain store fucked the negatives from some of the other rolls we took, not that theres another place around here to go to for developing, well really it was my fault for not marking off premium on the lope. but so much has changed since then, and i feel i've really changed as a person for all the better. but to feed the piece, i got a fiction rejected from the new yorker tues, and some people i really care about are in an escalating in it's fucked upedness situation, and here's a sort of lie, which only they can solve everpresent conflict in me though on how to help plus gauging apathy, for for the first time i am totally out of that kind of thing in my own home and have been slowly moreso a number of years now, and i finally understand the nonvibe of just walking by domestic violence. but been painting lately, and really finding out more about myself as other things fall away.

fuck it, he thought. who the fuck cares. so what if it's stupid. he was listening to sunburned hand of the man's no magic man, and his jaw hurt. folding and unfolding his fingers of his right hand, he finally let himself just post it. but as he saw it there on the page, it looked worse than he had imagined, so he went back and deleted the post so nobody would ever know. as he sat there afterwards he thought about this boy he really cared about that was living in house that was evil madness, ruoy had himself lived in a place on a that level when he was a kid, but he realized that now as his life had become so calm over the years he couldn't really relate to that, and he wished the boy couldn't either even though he knew that the boy was becoming a deeper and richer and person because of it, just like he had. m.i.a.'s arular started over his headphones and he felt fine thinking about whatever, he really liked this album.