two nights in a row where "america" makes me want to write.

unlike so many that i admire, i should not write when i drink.

but, let me say this much:

anna is a worthy to engage anytime in debate, her intelligence and passion inspires me and i love her dearly, just her voice makes me smile.

and sukilicious makes a good point, it's all a lie, but i crave that simple openness still and even though drunk hands make me say it, it is no less true.

and this 50 degree wind feels like heat.

and the loudness of this song makes sentimentality in me.

and because you pour it means you must drink it.

and even though it's sad sentimentality, i want someone to have to shove my hands into their pockets while we walk down streets, and we can sing this song to each other, voices under breath.

this is such a small hope, but it's a hope i keep all the same.

"be careful his bow-tie is really a camera."

when will i have that private moment in a public place, the voice so close in my ear?

"i'm empty and aching and i don't know why."

yes, suki, it's all sentimentality, and all sentimentality is a lie because it is idealized, but now it's a part of my skin and what else can i say but that?