fascinating blanks and the careful laying out of words on a page that paints your mind and you take a pregnant pause to ponder at almost every phrase. the beat poets, this week's mental breakfast on the train to work, and 60s sounds in my ear, without which the daily train scene to work would be a sleepy haze of worrying about stops in between the waking and the dreaming. the morning crowd is not that fascinating to observe. they're almost all always going to work. the non-peak hour crowds are more interesting to observe. where be they going now, if not with the dull peak-hour columns sardined into carriages with similar looks that reinstate they'd rather be in bed still.

what gives? what grooves you along to the beat that is your own? texture's mine. feel and peel. i love my very indigo, very understated, bookish, silent jeans. project runway - jay's collection is too cool. but the prettiest bit was wendy's little girl skipping behind that diorama screen.

thank you you, for coming to take me out for dinner although you've had a packed day being a bookish preppy scholar today. i love you. twirling skirt hemmings and standing at tip toe on the edge of an edge. you make me sense so.