Oh sketchbook. You haunt me with your emptiness. I want to be an artist again. The only thing that inspires me is highlighters and office supplies. I want to hurl myself into the grass of my muddy, rainsoaked backyard. slowly sink into the cold mud, until my impression is made on the earth. I won't care about being cold ever again. I will run into the rain and never come back. Lets throw our computers out the window. Plant a flowebed inside. I want to go back to carefree mischief. Hiding on traintracks with joints in cigarette packs. Friday brings rain rain and more rain. Lets call it our seattle bbq. hiding in the garage drinking beers in the rain. can't wait can't wait for saturday.