going home is always a collision with your past and a collapsing of time. I get this icky feeling that it is a lost month, and dangling all around me are objects hanging out from the past. Some remind me of the parts of myself i have reluctantly forgotten, the fears I once had, and others remind me of the consistency the things we don't even realize that never change.

writing cover letters is a task to be avoided. selling yourself. ba hum bug. never what a girl needs. Its a rainy day here in kansas city missouri, my feet were flooded with rivers of fresh rainfall and the chill has soaked in and i am damn glad there is no conception of the draft lurking in these America parts that can sneak in and snuff my living daylights out.