a few days ago one of the high school boys that i work with, simon, looked down at my feet and said, "umm, your shoes are missing laces," as if i should clearly know better. i said something back about how all of my clothes were falling apart, i think, or something silly like that. that simon. he should know by now that i am always working on small amounts of coherency, or at least that i am living a headache. if we had been friends in high school, simon would have been my voice of reason. he probably would have told me to go to class instead of eating italian food. he would have told me to stop cheating on my math tests. too bad i didn't have a simon. so we know each other from two to ten on sundays now, instead. one day a lady came in and gave both of us guardian angel pins to put on our shirts; he still wears his each time i see him, and twirls it round and round, making me dizzy.

but besides working. i have been listening to the strokes again, just like back in middle school when we would stay up for hours calling them in to the radio station. one of those nights someone said the 'shit' word at us, and we couldn't stop giggling. those were the bravery days. now, julian casablancas' voice is almost a form of therapy. therapy for a burnt out student. for an oddly aching heart.

i think i want to catch up on t.v. shows i have been missing again, like 30 rock. tina fey is another form of therapy in that she is such a smart and funny woman. liz lemon reminds me of the person i will be in 15 years, or at least some small part of an alter-ego living in me.

jackwhiteguitarriffs. not knowing all of the answers. brit daniels' cigarette voice. delirious laughing. a creative writing professor that loves your stories and wears cute clothes. making guacamole. strawberry cream cheese on bagels. secondhand smoke on campus. songs with soul in them. surrealist schomburg poems. these all equate to a happiness bubbling up inside of a sadness. things are always feeling better. Jesus knows my heart and is good to me.