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{Reservations} {Tickets} {Map} {Photos} {Souvaniers} {Postcards} {Design} 2002-07-09 | 11:05 p.m. "I've got something in my pocket that's long, and very hard, and has a soft, pink tip." Here's the thing. I was reading a novel, and I'm nearly finished with it. So, to celebrate, what do I do? I go out and buy some more used books. The Book Barn offers used books on every single subject known to man, in a almost authentic barnISH setting, complete with many many MANY flea-infested animals. The place makes me wanna write a book. A long, wonderful, gaping hole of a book. "What do you call a man with syphlis, herpes, AIDs and gonnorhea?" What's stopping me, Diary? Partly it's the overwhelmed feeling that hugs me tight whenever I entertain the thought of working on a 'B I G ... P R O J E C T.' Little steps I can do. Looking at the big picture makes me hyperventilate, and turn the color of overcooked pasta. To be a success, I'd need to be an incurable romantic with a large pencil.
Miss These? absence of life - 2003-07-28 |
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