a friend came bellowing through the doors today:

i heard stories about honduras. children are shot, glue is sniffed, money is stolen, beggars are lost, mattresses are shared, people on top of people, abuse is rampant, the government is not there (hello?), the rich ignore, the poor will suffer, and as i sit back and listen to dear julie tell me these things i wonder why so many educated people hate america.

it was good to see julie. and i enjoyed her company on the 1308 bemis porch this afternoon. zaria, dijon, biggie and the rest of the bemis block kids who would play in my lap, stare in awe at my skin color and hair, ask for food, money and love came by and reminded me of summer. tangled in children and grasping to catch up with one another, i forgot to thank julie for all the hours she's spent listening to me talk and for the hours of advice she's given me. and now, as she decides what to do with her life, i'll remember julie dyson and hope the best for her. it was good to see you, julie, unexpectedly. i love surprises.

i find myself cornered by school at the moment. a take home on my desk, to the right of me. to the left of me is my study guide for victorian literature. damien rice signs in the background and i'm watching people carry their personal belongings and packing them into cars, leaving school, because they're done for now. i've become impatient. and its effecting my studies. school will end soon enough. and damien will be my eskimo friend again. this room is dirty and i don't want to clean it.