QUE
45 or a 4 or 5 year old child.
Not sure if it's just one, but thinking there's more.
Yes, wants to read a story, not the newspaper. A child. F or Five years old. Initials QUE. Half of a C. Cloister, or Hospital? History, or frequent death over a period of time.
F. Fire? Flue? When is the flue most contagious? February. Last month. Here now.
You're in a box. A box, four eyes.
Ever wonder what's written under peoples tables?
Remember what we did, then, or even what's going on now? We'll solve the pig theory because we're thinkers. A smart generation of thinkers that has a lot to say. We elaborate on the finest of things in life. Appreciating it every step of the way. Feel creation.
Some people just can't. They don't have the ability or common sense in which to do it. They cannot do it. Let's get freaky now. Artsy now.

Ever think about what your kids might be like? All the stories you'll be able to tell them. That's what it's all about, right? Making and creating memories? I think friends are wonderful. I love all of my friends right now. Just hanging out, doing whatever. Doing nothing at all. Car rides are a blast with good music & other people. It's starting to look more like a tattoo. I feel like I'm talking to myself, so this is a journal-entry? That's what you do in journals, right? Like you're talking to yourself. A bit weird, but it's kinda nice. Makes it seem deep.
The Bride Of Frankenstein; movie from the grave, old school, random playing of classic horror movies. Good stuff
Eat your chips, but eat the broken one's first.
Sleepover's are the best.

You never actually realize & understand how much you follow the guid-lines when you're driving until you think about it. The right is white & the yellow on the middle-left; don't hit the pot-hole, but don't cross the line--kiss the side of the on-coming car is no fun. The kind of kissing that isn't fun. Like with the old man in the porn store with my friends & other creepers--I think he was known by name, and that's just disgusting. The city's one-way streets are frustrating like math, or rocket-science and I shake and yell and my hands get sweaty. Although it doesn't help when city-drivers yell when I'm within the wrong lines. Simmer down, we'll all arrive by the movement of progress to our destination within due time.
The yellow and white; I don't want to kiss.
I'm sorry and scream it.
Kiss it.

I love airports; the people there are classy & well-dressed, for the most part. Stylish & have money to their name. High-heeled shoes--shoes tell it all--with designer bags. Sip on wine. They're so sophisticated with their glasses & books & high-tech gadgets. But what language is in their head? Where do you think they're going? And what for?
Business-men that wear nice, expensive suites and have laptops that could probably fit inside of a shoe-box.
-I bet they watch porn on them; their dirty fingers typing nasty words. Drink a beer or two. I wonder what their jobs could be. Is it hard? I assume they get paid well.
Hustle & bustle--everyone has somewhere to go. Some place to be; schedules.

-We finally board a bit before eight. Buckle-up. Taxi-around. Runway...take-off...left side emergency compartments fly open and oxygen masks fall into peoples faces. Panic in some, confusion in others--this could cause a delay & make us late for our next flight. We hope not.
Ten minutes or so passes by until we're informed that we're landing in Miami.
-We all were in transit; rushing to the bathrooms.
Boarded a different plane. Pretty much the same, though. We had little touch-screens on the back of the seat in front of us. You could choose a television episode, a movie, play games, and even create your own music playlist--that's what I did on the first plane. The second one my screen didn't work right, so I just put on my ipod, had salad for supper, and slept on & off sitting up. Finally landed in Chile & were pushed by time, so father & I ran to our next flight to Cordoba, Argentina which was our destination. Short flight--the Andes mountains are beautiful from flight; especially the snow-covered ones. Immigration--we made it! Met up with our host-group and we were off again. It was about an hour & a half van ride, but I slept most of it. Bumps, dirt-roads & a few palm-trees here & there.
The place we're staying at is beautiful. Half outside-like. I've been taking pictures along the way, so far and I like how they're turning out. This place is surrounded by sun-flower fields; absolutely gorgeous, and the summer-breeze is so luxurious.
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You'll never be able to look yourself in the eyes; you're forced to look at your pupil with the opposite eye.
Go try- it's not a lie.
It got further & further the closer we got to it. Getting pushed away in the wake of every step;
blue outlined.


7/19/08-Location; Delaware.
[It's like one of those places that's comfortable, but only because you don't move to find a more cozy one.
Because the closest distance between two objects is a straight line. And you care but you do not.
The sink reminded me of a goat & a little boy was trying to open the door & said "Hello."
I was the stranger, but so was he. This is becoming something, yet nothing at all; I guess some would agree to disagree. Maybe? So, paint your face on & secure it fastened. It is time to go & live without a course headed for remorse. :].