So I know that in the tri state area, thats California, Oregon && Arizona, they do this thing called 'Poetry in Motion' on the buses. Basically they just put up poems on the bus, so that people can read them while they're riding. The program was recently picked up and sponsered by comcast, so you might see it outside of the original tri state area, but it started in LA. A young poet named Karina Morales started leaving poems taped to the seats on the buses and the city thought it was a good idea. Uplifting && shit. Whatever.

The ones in LA were about shit that happened in LA. They were about feeling like you were in two different worlds. About drive-bys && Hollywood && shit. The ones in Oregon are about shit that happens in Oregon. Downside? NOTHING HAPPENS IN OREGON. So most of the poems are about nature. And some of them are really pretty. But I mean, they're still about flowers && dogwood trees && shit. The prettiest ones that I've seen out here aren't even real poems. They're just little one liners, that could mean nothing, but I choose to let them mean everything. My favorites:

"I believe in myself slowly. It takes all I have. It takes my wonder." - That ones the screen saver on my phone.

"You absence cuts through me like a needle and thread, so everything I do is stitched with its color." - That ones gorgeous to me. Like, wow. Anyway moving on.

I didn't do anything today but go to work. I watched My Best Friends Girl after work. Dane Cook is funny. Came home, cooked for my brother, put him to bed, and now I'm blogging. What do yall think of the blog by the way. I know Zula likes it. Could I get someone to comment other than Kris, please? Not that I don't appreciate your support Zula! Wuv you!!!

Sidebar: I can't put my finger on it, but I have a bad feeling.

Erm. I smoked a cigarette for the first time yesterday. Don't ask me. I don't know. I was just like, "lemme get a drag off that," && just kinda snatched it. I'd never smoked before that. I'm being corrupted.

My current conundrum: My mother is allowing me to take the Amtrak train to Los Angeles and stay with my friends there for a week, but she won't let me go see Alyssea in Gresham for a weekend. The hell kinda bullshit? Tell me if that shit makes sense to you, cus its killing me.

& Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah,

Everything I do is stitched with its color.
-A.