I'm surrounded by assholes and I love it.

A gift from my art teacher (again! he dotes upon me so!) Here, he has given me a "brush pen" (the thing in the cardboard case), a precision-tip rolling-ball ink pen, and a regular pen. (and an eraser, but that's not important.)

Beware BACTEROIDES. If you poop and forget to wash your hands, it will infect your vagina. In other words, you will be raped by a germ.

Very specific. Just because no one knows what it does doesn't mean they can make it sound so innocent.

Here's something I drew with my new pens. Most of it is done with the brush pen, except for the hair, eyelashes, and stubble (which you probably can't see anyway.) It was originally genderless, then it became a man, but it is still feminine, so the lunch table determined that he is probably Andy Warhol.

Since this photo was taken I added (in my most elaborate handwriting) "Down came the sun, and everything went black. I saw you; you saw me. You were naked, which was weird."

I miss writing about Lynne and Luke and Richard and Caroline and Joshua and Harry and Haven and Erin and Alyssa and Melissa and Jonathan. I miss jilted lovers, entering houses which smell of sex and cheap perfume, and I miss dramatic murders and mysterious kidnappings and exiles into the wilderness. I miss conspiracies and the future. I miss 2008.

Maybe I should finish one of my stories.