running through time like in a charlie kaufman film

i am discouraged.  i have misplaced my pen in my bed (along with myself), so instead of look for it (them), i've made a blogspot. 

for the past few years, my livejournal has been my source of internet solace but i feel its era has ended.  none of its entries are about farts, which is the only thing worth writing about in a blog, i've been advised through the grapevine.  few of the posts found here will be about farts.

so here it is: summer.  sweet & lazy, like a pinwheel on a windless day.  i ride my bike past the baseball field, lay in sun, notice that everything is green.  love that particular feeling, that unfaltering feeling of awkward comfort, like spiderland and my dog's fur, outdoor showers and citronella and endless sky.  

in summers passed, i used to visit a lakeside cabin with two, uncertain stories and stairs that creaked, a turquoise and rust colored oven, shepherd dogs and wild peppermint.  the cabin is on a trembling shoreline polluted by footprints, pebbles, and crawfish.  perhaps it is there, the memory of there and not these sheets, where i have misplaced myself.