Thursday, November 27, 2003

roaming from lipman room humming with rattering drums, swashbuckling hips, and solo saxophones, pouring onto the street while singing songs about robots all the way to the korean bbq parlor then to hold a loved one on a futon to wake up to poetry reading after poetry reading, rocking out with viet poets, painters, and freestylers and making a sister cry in the corner, boomblast to san francisco to peep sam flores and david choe on the go, spraypainting horses and cars while people pop on the dancefloor, trip over architecture models, gluegun days together, jamie turns twenty by fake-surprise cake candlelight, speak softly with heartbroken jerry, hold hands with a girl as she avoids cracks on the sidewalk, fall asleep in the dark city and wake up on an airplane, to rush into a mother's arms