Talking Bird

I don’t write enough.

I have nothing to do except read.

I have no bike, I have no way of transporting music with me, and this is not good.

I’ve become bored with preseason football. Where’s September 4th?

I could clean my room. Or clean my car. Or go for a run, but I just ate 4/5 of a frozen Meijer pizza while reading The Omnivore’s Dillemma. Irony?

Iron Knee.

Jon’s not here, so I have no one to make word jokes with.

Steve’s not here, so I have no one to clean up after me.

Justin’s not here, so I have no one to see playing video games on our broken futon.

Nina’s not here, so I have no one to force me to get out of my apartment.

And Celia’s not here, and I miss her.

Did I mention I don’t write enough?