And I still won't make my bed
24 February 2005 at 2:49 pm
They're doing work outside my apartment building and laid in new cement last night. When I awoke this morning, someone had written, "The Missing Piece" on a triangle-shaped slab. It was strange because last night found me at a book reading in the children's section of A Clean, Well-Lighted Place for Books (which isn't all that well-lit) pondering Shel Silverstein and whether I should buy a copy of "Where The Sidewalk Ends" for Michelle's kid. Amazon says it's a book for kids aged 9-12 but I was reading chapter books in first grade, which I never would have thought to do had my mom not given me those books. There's no reason to limit what kids can and can't read, especially when it promotes bizarre thought processes. I still think about that poem, the one where all the adults sit waiting at the red stop light for days at a time, when I'm waiting at a stop light. And when the garbage starts to overflow I fondly remember Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout who would not take the garbage out.
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Hi. Morgan, 27, of Santa Barbara, CA. I am a hypocritical admirer of rhetoric (when it is my own) and an observer of literary trends. A secret: I don't take anything very seriously, and that includes myself.