Sunday, October 10, 2010


Backseats are for lovers...they really are.

Dear Naomi,
What did you mean by "write about something important?" What, to you, is important?
Hmm... My imagination needs to be more productive.

I was writing this thing called Unworthy. I wrote it because my best friend at the time wanted to see what kind of stuff I write. I stopped because he stopped talking to me for some absurd reason. I think he was like my inspiration for Unworthy. He's sort of what kept it going. I really want to finish it and print it out because some of the stories I wrote weren't too bad. I need another inspiration. I need to talk to someone interesting and read some more books.

Dear miserly sir,
How can I be of importance to you? I received your letter in the mail on a Tuesday afternoon right after I got home from work. There was only one envelope sitting at the bottom of my mailbox, I thought to myself that it must be one the mailman had left behind. I reached inside and pulled out the envelope. On it, I saw your name written neatly on the right hand side. "Mr. Carlow," I said to myself, "sounds familiar..."
As I walked towards my house, I thought more in depth about the familiar name sitting on the manila envelope.

I don't feel like finishing that sounds forced to me.
My brain is fried.

"Wanna see my view of Paris?"
-Hotel Chevalier

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