Who says all the rules are made with rulers?
We break 'em and break in their computers.
--mia
I feel antsy, anxious, good. I feel potential rushing to my head like I stood up too fast. Creeping down the gentrified paradise, late night; energy flows in and out, in and out, and I'm like: "not for you!" The future rushes at me. I can't wait for it. I want it. Day drags after day--enjoyable, but dead: the lame duck malaise marches on and on.
And I realize that soon it will end, and soon the next phase will be flashing by. How can you eat your food and taste? How can you savor your time and live? Fuck if I care. But the streets are beautiful.
