“In heaven, everything is fine.” – Kim Deal of the Pixies

I don’t know why I exist or how I happened to become about, but none of that really matters. All I am is the soul of a snowman, and that’s how it’ll always be.

When it’s summertime and springtime and autumn-time my soul resides in snowman heaven. Snowman heaven is a lot different than regular heaven in that in snowmen heaven, souls are beautiful. In human heaven, souls are talking the same old bullshit as when they were in bodies.

In snowman heaven innocent little children are ubiquitous. They laugh and put carrots in your nose and lie in the snow and smile at you. In human heaven, a lot of people choose to be kids, but they’re never smiling. They’re usually picking their noses or eating fast food or something wasted that kids do. I suppose the real innocent ones just keep us company in snowman heaven. Thank God for that.


I remember the first time I saw the girl I fell in love with. She was only six then, but it was okay because I was only one. She was wearing a little white cardigan and big ear muffs. She had this pretty little habit of falling backwards laughing after putting my soul into a snowman’s body and then making a snow angel.

When I died, she felt so bad that she made a grave for me. She put a little yellow dandelion where my belly was and she cried. When the dandelion got to heaven it became beautiful.

As a soul, I’m only on earth when I’m in the body of a snowman. When I melt, I am immediately sent to snowman heaven where my soul can wander freely among streets paved with chocolate and cream. Nobody eats the roads though. Snowmen souls are very afraid of cavities. If the soul of a snowman gets a cavity, they’re automatically stuck with the cruelest kid next winter. Example: The kid who uses the spikes of a fork as eyes instead of buttons.

If had a million dollars I would give all of it to an 18 year old girl ready to do pornography and tell her it's not too late to love life.




Of course, it's probably already is for them.

Today I met with my teacher, Mrs. Beetlebaum, after school to talk about my grade in her class. She told me that she was worried about me as I’m getting a D- in her class. I got an A on this story I wrote, but I utterly failed the discussion and test-taking part of the course. What’s really going on is that I’m all too shy (Bashful scolds me for this) and I’m never really motivated to do any of my work anymore. All I want to do is listen to beautiful music and hear her sing.

“Dance dance, I like to dance
I am a flower of romance
Be kind to me and treat me well
Or ill put you under a spell

Ohhhh ohhhh be good!”

Sometimes I have no idea what the hell she’s singing about. It just sounds so pretty that I don’t have to care.

As I calmly walked back to cabin after school, a little fairy whose name I don’t remember stopped me to talk about life.

“What’s wrong, dear?” she asked sincerely.

“I don’t know. I’m not doing what I love for some reason. I don’t understand why.”

“Well,” she said and then paused for a moment before going on, “maybe it’s just that you’re really unhappy about some things in your life, and because of that, you aren’t able to concentrate on the good things.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Okay,” she said mirthfully. “Um… did ya know that us fairies love to take photos and do ballet? I mean, I could do ballet all day. My fairy parents want me to go to fairy college after fairy primary school, but I don’t want to. I just want to do ballet and be beautiful for the rest of my life!”

I think I almost fell in love with her right there. Then I remembered Snow White.

“Well, that’s very beautiful. I wish I could be like you. I’m very clumsy.”

“That’s okay.” She smiled. “It doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re beautiful when you do it. Do you like to write?”

“I’m not very good, but I like to I guess.”

“Well that’s good. You should always be writing writing writing – busy like a bee. I keep myself busy by taking good photos. You should keep yourself busy by writing. It’s very good for you.”

And with that, she sang mellifluously and fluttered away. Incidentally, some fairy dust got in my eyes and I was blind for a while. I had a camera with me, and I shot everything around me with no eyes so I would know what it’s like to stumble around the world blindly.


I never really wrote that much, but I was always taking photos.

Today I told Snow White that I was secretly in love with her. She said she had no idea. I suppose it wasn’t really all that obvious. I mean, all of us acted like children whenever she was in the room anyway. We never sing and dance together. We usually fight and fight until Dopey starts crying in the corner and Doc gets as drunk as a whistle. Bashful is usually the strongest of us, but that’s only because his name is a fake. He’s never embarrassed. He’s just a homosexual, which explains his uncanny amount of blushing.
After the shrub flew away, I started kicking these stones until eventually I heard a splashing sound. Obfuscated, I ran toward what I thought was water. Snow White was crying, and her tears had formed an enormous lake of acid tears. I went for a swim, and came out with third degree burns. I still love her though.
She never told me the reason she was crying, but I don’t think it mattered. Either way, all I could’ve done was comfort her. I think that’s all I wanted to have done.
As the weariest member of the group, sometimes I can’t help but feel remorse for never doing any work around the house. I just get so TIRED is all! I mean, why would I want to wash the dishes when I could sleep instead? Of course, if she asked me to wash them, they wouldn’t become chores anymore. They’d be obligations.
My Diary, who now only speaks German, has become my only sanctuary. Bashful used to be, but he kept trying to kiss me when I didn’t want him to.

To whom it may concern:
Schnee-Weiß, sind Sie mein Lieblingsfamilie Mitglied.

If I were a dwarf I'd be Sleepy.
If Dasha were a dwarf, she'd be Bashful.

Actually, she's Snow White and I'm just a lousy shrub.







Things were beautiful tonight. Rainbows everywhere!

“WE DONT HAVE TO BE LOVERS IN THIS LIFE TIME…

JUST PROMISE ME… I would be yours in another…



Lets fall in love… before time had it’s first forever…

before infinite runs out of numbers…



and before life ever knew of the word…NEVER ”

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I recently came across THAT poem while reading this kid's journal.

You wouldn't believe the praise he got. What the hell is going on?

LOVE EVERYONE!

I just helped my grandmother fill out these forms to transfer to another dialysis clinic in Idaho. It's just so damn depressing to see her so unhappy, knowing that she's alternating between which child will help support her next as she gets old. I just want her to stay with us and be happy and smile, and god I haven't seen her smile in a long time, and all she's doing is filling out these forms when she should be out flying a fucking kite. She wants me to grow tall and be happy and graduate college and find something in life that makes it all worthwhile. This was the woman who took care of me, and probably is the reason I have a soft spirit. I love her. I'll write for her and my grandfather. I think I do.

I just helped my grandmother fill out these forms to transfer to another dialysis clinic in Idaho. It's just so damn depressing to see her so unhappy, knowing that she's alternating between which child will help support her next as she gets old. I just want her to stay with us and be happy and smile, and god I haven't seen her smile in a long time, and all she's doing is filling out these forms when she should be out flying a fucking kite. She wants me to grow tall and be happy and graduate college and find something in life that makes it all worthwhile. This was the woman who took care of me, and probably is the reason I have a soft spirit. I love her. I'll write for her and my grandfather. I think I do.

im finding people to save the world with.



all of a sudden this feels very important. so here's my message to everyone:

read. read everything you can until your mind swells and your eyes light up and you can make sense of everything that was once beautiful. dance with grace and beauty to show others how nimble creatures we once were. paint and sing and shoot photos and act and act and act and create characters within yourself that are lovable and hateable and WANT something!

be beautiful.

i don't know why i read about serial killers. it scares the hell outta me.

p.s. it is very disturbing that the zodiac killer is still out there. im relying on kurt to bring me back to reality.

I remember there was a time in my life where I would just sit in my room all night hoping for someone to come along and rescue me from the dreary, bleak existance that was myself. Then nine months ago, somebody did. Somebody who I looked at in the halls and purposely walked by over and over and over just to see her smile. She saved me. She introduced me to new things and new loves. Without her I don't think I ever could have met the beatniks or learned to love music all over again. With every story I write, I'm writing for her.

She's the angel that made me stop crying, and start cleaning myself up. Thank you, thank you, thank you. God. Thank you.

I promise everything is well!

i dont wanna look like anyone else.
i dont wanna dress like anyone else.
i dont want their haircuts.
i dont want their tastes in music.
i dont want their tastes in books.
i want to be kurt vonnegut the human and not the idol.
i want to think about life and help kids who think too much.
i think too much.
i want to completely eliminate valentines day and make sure everyone just loves each other equally all the other days. true love, not asshole love.
*
i wrote kurt vonnegut a letter asking him to help me with my life. i asked him how i should be feeling as an eighteen year old hoping to become a writer. hoping to become a human recognized by other humans. hopefully he treats me as a fellow person instead of a fan.
ive been debating a pen name. i dont like my real one.

here's to my future writing career. i hope it will be tasteful.

terrible?

I'm sitting here in the library 3rd period. I'm supposed to be in Physics right now, but all of a sudden, looking at Dasha's pretty little face made me want to read something insightful instead of sitting in a cold room in the science building. Well fuck that.