dusk is sexy

running is like music if it could breathe is like poetry if it could move.

just got back from town lake for a run. release, finally. and cute [boys w/out shirts? nah] tiny doggies!! i need a fat little ball of fur to chase me around and to listen and to not talk back. AND i need a dog.

so i talked to the chick that lives in the apt. below me, and i asked her about why her psycho-ex was over here last night. i could hear them yelling and such outside, and since the silence is deafening over here, of course i hid all incognito-like against the window and peeked out between some blinds. homeboy had come to take his things back and had a backpack and shit--he had some initiative. the kind that'll at least merit a restraining order, but whatever. at least he had what we call FOLLOW-THROUGH. wow what a concept...

...i like ellipses...

the run got me kinda enthused for some reason, but that god for that. maybe it's that i get off passing people while i run? or maybe it's blaring patrick park:

Here I am, where I’ve been
I’ve walked a hundred miles in tobacco skin,
And my clothes are worn & gritty.
And I know ugliness,
Now show me something pretty.

I was a dumb punk kid with nothing to lose
And too much weight for walking shoes.
I could have died from being boring.
And as for loneliness,
She greets me every morning.

At the most I’m a glare,
I’m the hopeless son who’s hardly there.
I’m the open sign that’s always busted.
I’m the friend you need, but can’t be trusted.