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26 April 2007 : thursday
i am reading indian stories, have disney songs stuck in my head. it makes me want to talk about the simple things that make up my day.
uneventful for the most part, except for a few shivers of thrill at a particularly well turned sentence. the dead baby bird i haven't had the heart to kick off my porch has been laying there for over a week, nothing but skin and beak, too young even for feathers. it finally catches the cat's interest, so i hiss at him, kick a chair out of the way and push it over the edge of a balcony with a month old paper coffee cup.
i feel more remorse over the bird's unceremonious ending than i do about the cup, which is wedged underneath the railing looking dejected. its been sitting on the wooden floorboards for something like five weeks, missing the feel of a certain man's lips as distinctly as i am wondering if that particular knowledge of taste, flesh, movement would be worth the trouble.
there isn't even a flicker in my girl parts. he doesn't have a scent i can name, not like the man whose scent lingered on me even after a shower the last time we spent a day together.
if inanimate objects had feelings, you know, this paper cup would be mourning the end of its life. usefulness gone thanks to the carelessness of myself and another, it's been reduced to mortuary duty and will likely rot in its current position until i move. i feel heartless.
it is thursday. i am reading indian stories and the caribbean voice in my head is insisting, over and over again, that i must "kiss de girl." there is no irony, but the simple command is wasted on me. the author whose short stories are getting me through the morning i once saw give a reading in a dark auditorium on darling harbor. he said, "we are puritan and repressed and we work out our frustration by dropping bombs on brown people."
i get that. i have nothing, really, to offer today. five hours of serving coffee with unncessary italian names and a softball game this evening if it doesn't rain.
but here, let me whet your appetite. maybe you'll understand this feeling that has wound its way around my bones and settled in my belly for the duration.
"i am jealous of what you have," she told me, pointing at the parts of my body and telling me what they do.
its sherman alexie. something about the man makes me want to romanticize every thing, as if i needed help with that. i take stock of all the ways i've molded imagined places to be appealing, and it takes my breath away. i think moving south will make me more attractive. i think i'd enjoy being poor with someone. i like to smoke cigarettes during meaningful moment.
he's measured out all the details and found the ones that matter. i can't seem to find what is worth picking out of this thursday morning - my lactose induced bellyache, my black cat shaking his head and glaring at me, spraying drops of liquid antibiotic over the floor, the smell of my shampoo or the feeling of my freshly shaved legs against my bare mattress since i haven't been bothered to put the sheets back on since laundry day.
i remember watches. they measured time in seconds, minutes, hours. they measured time exactly, coldly. i measure time with my breath, the sound of my hands across my own skin.
i make mistakes.
mostly i am waiting another hour so i can leave for work and trying to make this day feel a little less wasted. i haven't created anything beautiful for a while, and i don't know why that is. it has yet to bother me.
i lingered in the shower this morning, smelling myself over the burning sulfur smell of water in this apartment's old pipes. walked dripping aimlessly across the creakiest of the floorboards, making music in my head.
posted by lindsay at 13:10 :: 1 comments
22 April 2007 : what you should know
every part of your life relies on the world that surrounds you. this is what i think everyone means to say when they insist that all is relative. you adapt to your environment in more than a predator/prey sort of way. you adapt to your environment in every way possible.
this is how we live.
i notice this more and more every day as the weather changes. this is the very heart of the midwest, where it can (and frequently does) spiral from 80 degrees and sunny to 30 degrees and rainy in a matter of hours. sometimes minutes. everyone's moods change as they watch the sky. i am grateful for the opportunity to bare my shoulders to afternoon sunshine, at least the first two or three days of spring.
but it isn't just my mood that's changing from day to day. that's the simple epidermis of my existence - i was delighted with the november-like weather of the last week or so, for one more chance to drink hot chocolate and think about the long slow dying of a year - that part of time where you sit back and begin considering all the ways in which you're going to start fresh.
before too long, everything i know is going to come to an end. with every free moment i have, with every second of perfect sunshine and warm breeze, i long to head out of town. south, always south. my restlessness, at least, has a definitive direction. new scenery, i need different architecture and faces with features that differ subtly from those i'm used to seeing.
i always find a way to renew when this feeling comes. in the past its been tattoos and haircuts, new clothes or new glasses. if i don't naturally change quickly enough to suit my needs, then i can find artificial ways of creating permanence(intentional dichotomy).
this year, i've found myself breaking up with indianapolis. i have loved this city more completely than i thought would ever be possible. i found nooks and crannies to crawl into when i needed to feel safe, and particular faces to seek out for guidance, comfort, laughter. i know where to go and who to call for pretty much anything. but now, i'm pushing away some of those comforts. letting myself go home alone without saying hello. clinging to attachments already far away, rather than attachments within city limits.
it's the familiarity i have trouble with. i can't let it bolster me for too much longer. can't get married just because it seems like the next logical step.
the struggle has, rather than motivating me, put me out to pasture in the last few months. i lost my momentum, stopped finishing. but i got a simple reminder the other day, a jump start. remembered the existence of the words "poverty" and "sustainable development." and i remembered why i'm doing all this work, why i'm letting myself go south.
it's not just about the weather. so i told indianapolis the truth, whispered it gently to blooming trees and old brick walls. there are always symptoms, and my need to go south with every free second i have isn't about haste or dislike or restlessness. its about finding the right places and giving myself the right opportunities. this slow process, this breaking up, it will save me from heartbreak in the long run.
to borrow some infamous words:
i'm so sorry.
it's not you, it's me.
-- lindsay
posted by lindsay at 16:00 :: 0 comments
16 April 2007 : mmmm.
stop here. close your eyes. breathe.
i'm going to sprinkle this moment with salt.
a freeze frame before the deluge. but you're going to have to trust me and close your eyes, otherwise its going to sting. you're going to get all watery and the blur will ruin everything. i can't take that chance, not today.
if we get this right we can come back to it in a thousand hours. a thousand days. a thousand years.
then, all the colors, they'll be the same. sharp and bright, everything true. nothing will fade. the rest of it, it doesn't have the will anymore to matter. just perfect preservation. our memory.
see?
i had to fake it for a while, but i think i'm ready now.
posted by lindsay at 21:10 :: 0 comments
11 April 2007 : conversations.
despite the young of my face, i can be taken seriously. part of this is almost about being sheltered. i don't tend to surround myself with people who won't take me seriously. i miss out on a lot of prejudice and ignorance by choosing carefully who gets to be involved in my life.
still i am sometimes meek and intimidated. i am sometimes so unsure of myself that i'll avoid a situation all together. i don't quite trust myself as an adult yet, am still feeling out where the edges of my self assurance lie. its gotten better recently. a realization, in the winter.
and the conversations keep on coming.
"i'm tired of not getting what i want because i'm afraid to ask for it. so i'm going to tell him."
"good luck."
i send the email. i think i like you. you cool with that? i get the reply. yeah, i'm cool with that. after all, i'm a pretty sweet dude.
nothing really comes of it. i head home from my weekend away with a large bite mark and a couple of choice bruises, but nothing has really changed between us in four years. this is about him, i think. i'm not the girl he wants to start out on. he doesn't want to start out at all, even with me. we've talked about this, briefly and without looking at each other. in quiet moments, unlocking the door and walking up the stairs. i know its more important to me than it is to him.
the thing is, it doesn't hurt this time. because i didn't make it up. i took the chance, and even though i haven't gotten what i want, i've gotten enough. exceeds expectations, doesn't meet hopes. this is a pattern.
the truth is, i'm a daydreamer. and a nightdreamer. i live by my fantasies, spend so much time working out all the possible manifestations of a situation. and yes, i'm talking about sex because so frequently that is the only thing my life lacks. but in my fantasies, its different. i dream about being strong. i dream about saying no.
in my head, i say "we can't keep doing this if this is all it is. i can't let myself get attached to you if you're not going to get attached back. there are some guys with whom i could do the makeout-buddy thing, but you're not one of them."
in real life, i say, "are we done with that whole thing?"
"why, do you want to make out?"
"well, i kind of always want to."
this is not going how i'd planned it. i am only strong in my head. when it comes down to it, i want what i want. the moment at hand is all that matters. i forget the very concept of aftermath.
i'm just trying to figure all of it out. how am i going to live? how am i going to protect myself? i've got a big scary life to confront in just a few short months and i need to be certain that i won't damage my chances at success by doing something stupid, by succumbing to desire too often.
my youth could be fatal (that sounds so dramatic!). i am not like the girls my age i am friends with - they're tough, outspoken. don't take any shit. that's what i mean by becoming a woman. maybe it's not about age, maybe its not the passing of time. its about learning not to be a wallflower.
we are talking about our pre-one another lives. teenage years mostly, when you started figuring stuff out. we have a lot in common in that way, being utterly different from but still a part of our respective families. knowing what matters and what doesn't. choosing what we love and following it.
he says, "yeah, but nobody's perfect."
i say, "i think i'm perfect." he laughs, because he thinks i'm joking.
i'm not joking. "it's not about being perfect in every way possible, or being someone's dream. i'm the most perfect lindsay possible."
and that's the truth. it's about my struggles and my questions, its about figuring everything out. i am lindsay in every single moment, when i'm manic with glee or stalking about filled with confidence because my jeans fit well and my sunglasses are huge and my hair is shiny. i am lindsay when i'm afraid to talk to you, and i am lindsay when i take a deep breath and reveal more than i should.
i'm not really sure what any of this has to do with him, but i'm figuring out what it all has to do with me. lexington, you better watch the fuck out, because i'm on my way.
posted by lindsay at 12:38 :: 0 comments
09 April 2007 : malleable, like metal.
my preoccupation with past conversations must reflect this week and the weekend which was so full of them. i couldn't seem to stop talking talking talking. sometimes i wanted to, so badly. i couldn't believe the things flying from between my lips, sugary sweet at times but mostly like lemons picked straight from the tree. i was - at times - ornery. i was - at times - downright cruel.
she says, "i have this problem where i speak without thinking, so stupid shit just comes out, and i think, what did i just say? does that even make sense?"
i tell her i have the same sort of problem, variations on a theme, which is sensible as the two of us in personality are just that - variations on a theme. the same girl only sharper or softer, depending. "the difference is," i say, "i blurt out stuff i should keep to myself." it's true; i tend to hit full disclosure early on and just keep running. it's a symptom - i want people to know me.
over the past year, and in the last six months especially, i have been struggling with the concept of woman. what one really is, what one really should be, where those two intersect, how to become one without going insane. i'm 24 and i don't want to be a kid anymore.
he says, "you just seemed really nice and friendly and cute," with a shrug and i wobble back and forth with wanting to let my knees buckle from desire and wanting to smack him, this man i barely know. my eyes water, the sting of indecision.
i said, "well, i am all those things," and settled on desire over ire. it isn't his fault, not really. i have a certain way about me that i can't help - big brown eyes, round pink cheeks, white skin and pursed red lips. when i student taught the first year mandarin classes my first year in college, the professor made the class choose my chinese name for the year. they rifled furiously through their dictionaries and settled on wa wa lian which means precisely "baby doll face."
this i have resigned myself to - i'll probably always look young. men will forever be attracted to some sense of wide-eyed, innocent fragility. it was far from the last time he would call me cute, and each time i would swallow my irritation in favor of flattery, knowing that phenotype is phenotype and he would not be intentionally hurtful. men will never look at me like they look at, say, Dita Von Teese.
still, somewhere i have to learn to reconcile this unintentional near-infantilism with adulthood. and i don't really know where to begin.
to be continued...
posted by lindsay at 20:47 :: 2 comments
08 April 2007 : best weekend conversations.
one
"you wanna move to australia with me?"
"totally."
"let's ask j. to go with us - he'll like it, it's like the extreme sports capital of the globe."
"oh it is! i want to learn to surf!"
"well if you wanna surf, australia's the place to be."
"i know. i've seen point break."
(after we finished laughing, i said 'you know i'm blogging that,' and she said, 'you can't tell the internet i've seen point break.')
two
"i can't wait to see the movie."
"they're making a movie? out of atlas shrugged?"
"i know it's going to be awful, but i'm hoping it won't be."
"it would be nice to see hank rearden personified. like, flesh and blood personified. but only if they get it right."
"lindsay, it's hollywood. there's no way they're going to get it right."
"that's true. i bet it will be matt damon."
pause. "you just gave me cancer. and diabetes. i am going to die because you just said that."
three
"i'm gonna take my shirt off now. cause, nudity is unity."
sweetpea status countdown: available as of 7:06 pm. four days to go.
it was a good weekend.
posted by lindsay at 19:47 :: 3 comments
06 April 2007 : p.s.
uhm, i shouldn't be allowed to talk.
please remind me of this more regularly.
or say, "hey lindsay? just...don't be that guy."
posted by lindsay at 15:54 :: 0 comments
i am reading indian stories, have disney songs stuck in my head. it makes me want to talk about the simple things that make up my day.
uneventful for the most part, except for a few shivers of thrill at a particularly well turned sentence. the dead baby bird i haven't had the heart to kick off my porch has been laying there for over a week, nothing but skin and beak, too young even for feathers. it finally catches the cat's interest, so i hiss at him, kick a chair out of the way and push it over the edge of a balcony with a month old paper coffee cup.
i feel more remorse over the bird's unceremonious ending than i do about the cup, which is wedged underneath the railing looking dejected. its been sitting on the wooden floorboards for something like five weeks, missing the feel of a certain man's lips as distinctly as i am wondering if that particular knowledge of taste, flesh, movement would be worth the trouble.
there isn't even a flicker in my girl parts. he doesn't have a scent i can name, not like the man whose scent lingered on me even after a shower the last time we spent a day together.
if inanimate objects had feelings, you know, this paper cup would be mourning the end of its life. usefulness gone thanks to the carelessness of myself and another, it's been reduced to mortuary duty and will likely rot in its current position until i move. i feel heartless.
it is thursday. i am reading indian stories and the caribbean voice in my head is insisting, over and over again, that i must "kiss de girl." there is no irony, but the simple command is wasted on me. the author whose short stories are getting me through the morning i once saw give a reading in a dark auditorium on darling harbor. he said, "we are puritan and repressed and we work out our frustration by dropping bombs on brown people."
i get that. i have nothing, really, to offer today. five hours of serving coffee with unncessary italian names and a softball game this evening if it doesn't rain.
but here, let me whet your appetite. maybe you'll understand this feeling that has wound its way around my bones and settled in my belly for the duration.
"i am jealous of what you have," she told me, pointing at the parts of my body and telling me what they do.
its sherman alexie. something about the man makes me want to romanticize every thing, as if i needed help with that. i take stock of all the ways i've molded imagined places to be appealing, and it takes my breath away. i think moving south will make me more attractive. i think i'd enjoy being poor with someone. i like to smoke cigarettes during meaningful moment.
he's measured out all the details and found the ones that matter. i can't seem to find what is worth picking out of this thursday morning - my lactose induced bellyache, my black cat shaking his head and glaring at me, spraying drops of liquid antibiotic over the floor, the smell of my shampoo or the feeling of my freshly shaved legs against my bare mattress since i haven't been bothered to put the sheets back on since laundry day.
i remember watches. they measured time in seconds, minutes, hours. they measured time exactly, coldly. i measure time with my breath, the sound of my hands across my own skin.
i make mistakes.
mostly i am waiting another hour so i can leave for work and trying to make this day feel a little less wasted. i haven't created anything beautiful for a while, and i don't know why that is. it has yet to bother me.
i lingered in the shower this morning, smelling myself over the burning sulfur smell of water in this apartment's old pipes. walked dripping aimlessly across the creakiest of the floorboards, making music in my head.
posted by lindsay at 13:10 :: 1 comments
22 April 2007 : what you should know
every part of your life relies on the world that surrounds you. this is what i think everyone means to say when they insist that all is relative. you adapt to your environment in more than a predator/prey sort of way. you adapt to your environment in every way possible.
this is how we live.
i notice this more and more every day as the weather changes. this is the very heart of the midwest, where it can (and frequently does) spiral from 80 degrees and sunny to 30 degrees and rainy in a matter of hours. sometimes minutes. everyone's moods change as they watch the sky. i am grateful for the opportunity to bare my shoulders to afternoon sunshine, at least the first two or three days of spring.
but it isn't just my mood that's changing from day to day. that's the simple epidermis of my existence - i was delighted with the november-like weather of the last week or so, for one more chance to drink hot chocolate and think about the long slow dying of a year - that part of time where you sit back and begin considering all the ways in which you're going to start fresh.
before too long, everything i know is going to come to an end. with every free moment i have, with every second of perfect sunshine and warm breeze, i long to head out of town. south, always south. my restlessness, at least, has a definitive direction. new scenery, i need different architecture and faces with features that differ subtly from those i'm used to seeing.
i always find a way to renew when this feeling comes. in the past its been tattoos and haircuts, new clothes or new glasses. if i don't naturally change quickly enough to suit my needs, then i can find artificial ways of creating permanence(intentional dichotomy).
this year, i've found myself breaking up with indianapolis. i have loved this city more completely than i thought would ever be possible. i found nooks and crannies to crawl into when i needed to feel safe, and particular faces to seek out for guidance, comfort, laughter. i know where to go and who to call for pretty much anything. but now, i'm pushing away some of those comforts. letting myself go home alone without saying hello. clinging to attachments already far away, rather than attachments within city limits.
it's the familiarity i have trouble with. i can't let it bolster me for too much longer. can't get married just because it seems like the next logical step.
the struggle has, rather than motivating me, put me out to pasture in the last few months. i lost my momentum, stopped finishing. but i got a simple reminder the other day, a jump start. remembered the existence of the words "poverty" and "sustainable development." and i remembered why i'm doing all this work, why i'm letting myself go south.
it's not just about the weather. so i told indianapolis the truth, whispered it gently to blooming trees and old brick walls. there are always symptoms, and my need to go south with every free second i have isn't about haste or dislike or restlessness. its about finding the right places and giving myself the right opportunities. this slow process, this breaking up, it will save me from heartbreak in the long run.
to borrow some infamous words:
i'm so sorry.
it's not you, it's me.
-- lindsay
posted by lindsay at 16:00 :: 0 comments
16 April 2007 : mmmm.
stop here. close your eyes. breathe.
i'm going to sprinkle this moment with salt.
a freeze frame before the deluge. but you're going to have to trust me and close your eyes, otherwise its going to sting. you're going to get all watery and the blur will ruin everything. i can't take that chance, not today.
if we get this right we can come back to it in a thousand hours. a thousand days. a thousand years.
then, all the colors, they'll be the same. sharp and bright, everything true. nothing will fade. the rest of it, it doesn't have the will anymore to matter. just perfect preservation. our memory.
see?
i had to fake it for a while, but i think i'm ready now.
posted by lindsay at 21:10 :: 0 comments
11 April 2007 : conversations.
despite the young of my face, i can be taken seriously. part of this is almost about being sheltered. i don't tend to surround myself with people who won't take me seriously. i miss out on a lot of prejudice and ignorance by choosing carefully who gets to be involved in my life.
still i am sometimes meek and intimidated. i am sometimes so unsure of myself that i'll avoid a situation all together. i don't quite trust myself as an adult yet, am still feeling out where the edges of my self assurance lie. its gotten better recently. a realization, in the winter.
and the conversations keep on coming.
"i'm tired of not getting what i want because i'm afraid to ask for it. so i'm going to tell him."
"good luck."
i send the email. i think i like you. you cool with that? i get the reply. yeah, i'm cool with that. after all, i'm a pretty sweet dude.
nothing really comes of it. i head home from my weekend away with a large bite mark and a couple of choice bruises, but nothing has really changed between us in four years. this is about him, i think. i'm not the girl he wants to start out on. he doesn't want to start out at all, even with me. we've talked about this, briefly and without looking at each other. in quiet moments, unlocking the door and walking up the stairs. i know its more important to me than it is to him.
the thing is, it doesn't hurt this time. because i didn't make it up. i took the chance, and even though i haven't gotten what i want, i've gotten enough. exceeds expectations, doesn't meet hopes. this is a pattern.
the truth is, i'm a daydreamer. and a nightdreamer. i live by my fantasies, spend so much time working out all the possible manifestations of a situation. and yes, i'm talking about sex because so frequently that is the only thing my life lacks. but in my fantasies, its different. i dream about being strong. i dream about saying no.
in my head, i say "we can't keep doing this if this is all it is. i can't let myself get attached to you if you're not going to get attached back. there are some guys with whom i could do the makeout-buddy thing, but you're not one of them."
in real life, i say, "are we done with that whole thing?"
"why, do you want to make out?"
"well, i kind of always want to."
this is not going how i'd planned it. i am only strong in my head. when it comes down to it, i want what i want. the moment at hand is all that matters. i forget the very concept of aftermath.
i'm just trying to figure all of it out. how am i going to live? how am i going to protect myself? i've got a big scary life to confront in just a few short months and i need to be certain that i won't damage my chances at success by doing something stupid, by succumbing to desire too often.
my youth could be fatal (that sounds so dramatic!). i am not like the girls my age i am friends with - they're tough, outspoken. don't take any shit. that's what i mean by becoming a woman. maybe it's not about age, maybe its not the passing of time. its about learning not to be a wallflower.
we are talking about our pre-one another lives. teenage years mostly, when you started figuring stuff out. we have a lot in common in that way, being utterly different from but still a part of our respective families. knowing what matters and what doesn't. choosing what we love and following it.
he says, "yeah, but nobody's perfect."
i say, "i think i'm perfect." he laughs, because he thinks i'm joking.
i'm not joking. "it's not about being perfect in every way possible, or being someone's dream. i'm the most perfect lindsay possible."
and that's the truth. it's about my struggles and my questions, its about figuring everything out. i am lindsay in every single moment, when i'm manic with glee or stalking about filled with confidence because my jeans fit well and my sunglasses are huge and my hair is shiny. i am lindsay when i'm afraid to talk to you, and i am lindsay when i take a deep breath and reveal more than i should.
i'm not really sure what any of this has to do with him, but i'm figuring out what it all has to do with me. lexington, you better watch the fuck out, because i'm on my way.
posted by lindsay at 12:38 :: 0 comments
09 April 2007 : malleable, like metal.
my preoccupation with past conversations must reflect this week and the weekend which was so full of them. i couldn't seem to stop talking talking talking. sometimes i wanted to, so badly. i couldn't believe the things flying from between my lips, sugary sweet at times but mostly like lemons picked straight from the tree. i was - at times - ornery. i was - at times - downright cruel.
she says, "i have this problem where i speak without thinking, so stupid shit just comes out, and i think, what did i just say? does that even make sense?"
i tell her i have the same sort of problem, variations on a theme, which is sensible as the two of us in personality are just that - variations on a theme. the same girl only sharper or softer, depending. "the difference is," i say, "i blurt out stuff i should keep to myself." it's true; i tend to hit full disclosure early on and just keep running. it's a symptom - i want people to know me.
over the past year, and in the last six months especially, i have been struggling with the concept of woman. what one really is, what one really should be, where those two intersect, how to become one without going insane. i'm 24 and i don't want to be a kid anymore.
he says, "you just seemed really nice and friendly and cute," with a shrug and i wobble back and forth with wanting to let my knees buckle from desire and wanting to smack him, this man i barely know. my eyes water, the sting of indecision.
i said, "well, i am all those things," and settled on desire over ire. it isn't his fault, not really. i have a certain way about me that i can't help - big brown eyes, round pink cheeks, white skin and pursed red lips. when i student taught the first year mandarin classes my first year in college, the professor made the class choose my chinese name for the year. they rifled furiously through their dictionaries and settled on wa wa lian which means precisely "baby doll face."
this i have resigned myself to - i'll probably always look young. men will forever be attracted to some sense of wide-eyed, innocent fragility. it was far from the last time he would call me cute, and each time i would swallow my irritation in favor of flattery, knowing that phenotype is phenotype and he would not be intentionally hurtful. men will never look at me like they look at, say, Dita Von Teese.
still, somewhere i have to learn to reconcile this unintentional near-infantilism with adulthood. and i don't really know where to begin.
to be continued...
posted by lindsay at 20:47 :: 2 comments
08 April 2007 : best weekend conversations.
one
"you wanna move to australia with me?"
"totally."
"let's ask j. to go with us - he'll like it, it's like the extreme sports capital of the globe."
"oh it is! i want to learn to surf!"
"well if you wanna surf, australia's the place to be."
"i know. i've seen point break."
(after we finished laughing, i said 'you know i'm blogging that,' and she said, 'you can't tell the internet i've seen point break.')
two
"i can't wait to see the movie."
"they're making a movie? out of atlas shrugged?"
"i know it's going to be awful, but i'm hoping it won't be."
"it would be nice to see hank rearden personified. like, flesh and blood personified. but only if they get it right."
"lindsay, it's hollywood. there's no way they're going to get it right."
"that's true. i bet it will be matt damon."
pause. "you just gave me cancer. and diabetes. i am going to die because you just said that."
three
"i'm gonna take my shirt off now. cause, nudity is unity."
sweetpea status countdown: available as of 7:06 pm. four days to go.
it was a good weekend.
posted by lindsay at 19:47 :: 3 comments
06 April 2007 : p.s.
uhm, i shouldn't be allowed to talk.
please remind me of this more regularly.
or say, "hey lindsay? just...don't be that guy."
posted by lindsay at 15:54 :: 0 comments