019

Ten years from now, I want to the in the south. I want to be in short shorts with brown cowboy boots just below my knees and have tanned, shaved legs. I want to leave the windows down in my house all year round. I want to look up and see blue, cloudless sky. I want my accented husband to drive a pickup truck and take me wonderful places every Sunday morning. I want to have to drive for a while just to get a gallon of milk. I want to be so seperated from society that sometimes our phone line isn't connected. I want my kids to learn how to fish before they learn how to talk. I want to have a dog that doesn't have to be protected with an electric fence. I want it to be ten years from now.

017

Happy New Years!

"yeah, you've got a piece of me, but it's just a little piece. and i don't need anyone these days"

"The best thing though, in that museum, was that everything always stayed right where it was. Nobody'd move. You could go there a hundred thousand times, and that Eskimo would still just be finished catching those two fish, and the birds would still be on their way south. Nobody'd be different. The only thing that would be different would be you. Not that you'd be so much older or anything. You'd just be different, that's all. You'd have an overcoat on this time. Or you'd heard your mother and father having a terrific fight in the bathroom. You would be different in someway, I can't explain what I mean. And even if I could, I'm not sure I'd feel like it."

You can't wrap your arms around a memory