the only thing i'm scared of when it comes to death is
not meeting enough people while i'm alive
and not sharing different loves and perspectives with all that are willing

because this summer, though i was wrecked up there, was the novel coming of age story. i met people i wanted to be around and i met people i didn't want to be around. and the people i didn't want to be around were nice enough, but they never would have known why i didn't like it there. and they wanted me to like it so bad, but i just didn't. it was so ridiculous up in portland! ha.

christmas party christmas glow christmas trees christmas lights christmas presents christmas cookies christmas santa christmas TIME

"he found her extremely intellectually interesting" - theodore dreiser

oh mr. dreiser. oh you. oh john for bringing that sentence up and calling it cacophonous. everything about john gardner's LIFE was cacophonous. the suits, the chainsmoking, the alcoholism, the unhappiness with the way the publishing world worked, i wish i could've met him anyway. he seemed so understanding of young people

and mitch hedberg too. whenever i think about the people i try to model my life after, i can't help but feel incredibly sad that they're all gone and i never got a chance to hang out with them. if only i could've had a drink with raymond carver or something. i don't think the beats would have liked me, but i still would've liked to bum around for awhile.

do writers and artists actually hang out these days? i mean in the non-pretentious way. it seems like the only thing worth doing is to just swim out to the arctic ocean and start building as many igloos as you can, because you really have no idea when someone will be in need for a home.

and think about how happy the penguins and eskimos will be when homes have been built for them already. a free salmon dinner, perhaps.