engine lips and carbeurator thighs.

i’m sitting here waiting for my laundry to be done and thinking about the weather and how i’m supposed to read three plays tonight and write some paper on i don’t remember what and really, i just want to go to bed. not alone, preferably. oh, school. i kind of missed it. gives me something to focus on that’s not going to get me in trouble. i guess. my abnormal psychology class is good, makes me think and evaluate and question. i also dig going because there’s this girl who sits in the front row, to the left, who wears white like she invented it. i doubt i’d ever want to talk to her, we probably wouldn’t have much to say aside from awkward small talk, and even more probably, we wouldn’t even look each other in the eye. and she wears sequined flip-flops. jesusshit. but. i’m more than a little infatuated with the set of her shoulders. i can keep one eye on the board and the other on her tanned arm draped over the back of her chair. holds my interest for an hour and twenty minutes, three times a week. honestly. i feel like a dirty old man, sometimes. oh, well.
in other news, i spent way too much money on books. i haven’t been eating enough because i don’t have time. i’ve discovered i really love driving early in the morning, speeding up the highway with the windows down and the stereo up, coffee steaming next to me and someplace important to be. purpose does amazing things to me. and i’m not complaining.
i ran around downtown with the queen and the art school girl last night. i got a button that says “jesus: nothing’s been the same since he came” from some campus crusade group in the square. i laughed. i gave it to her and she smiled and pinned it to her bag. she drew a picture of a flower and gave it to me. cliche, maybe. but still.
and the goodwill girl. can hold conversation like no other, and pees in parking lots when we can’t find a bathroom at night. she’s careless, loses track of time when we’re together, and drinks chai tea three times a day. and it’s things like that that hold my interest. then. former gee eff calls late at night because she can’t sleep, and i tell her about my day and sing to her and read her my poems. then we whisper i love you’s and i curl up alone but smiling a little. i don’t know what to do about any of it. it’s not anywhere near a crisis but man, it makes me nervous sometimes.
laundry’s done. time for homework and sleep. but. how are you?