Current Thoughts:

• Why are social security numbers so important? They're too easy to steal. And I'm thinking that some very un-smart people probably keep them in their wallets, and then one day, you could just take it. Then they wouldn't have it, and you would have their identity.
• You never understood my relationship with my mother and I still can't finish my self-help book, titled : How to Forgive your Mother.
• I want to get on the whole tennis-shoe (but more specifically, the new-balance, tennis-shoe) fad. Its fashion meets function, really.
•  It takes me at least five tries to spell the word restaurant. (Lol, right?) 
• "Once I get a spray  tan I'll look Puerto Rican" -an inexplicable note left on my phone. 
• I had a dream last night that you broke up with your girl and I'm not complaining I just don't know what that means. 
• The batteries on this keyboard are 'very low' (says the little box in the top of my screen) so I just invented a key board that is powered by typing MORE TYPING, MORE BATTERIES MOFOS.
• I bruised the palm of my hand classic skating, so yes, it is possible.
• Rules about restaurants: no laminated menus, no happy birthday singing. 
• It really bothers me that Marilyn Monroe married Joe DiMaggio. It just doesn't make sense. (He had the money, obviously.)

XX

Rothko

About A:

Do you know the feeling where you see someone, and your stomach suddenly collapses? You literally can't breathe, all you can do is think; and you are trying to figure out how carefully these decisions were made and then the emptiness starts to wind up your stomach and into the base of your throat and it coils around your neck like the carefully tied noose from your execution.
Its how I feel, right now. 
And my thoughts are going to the pond by the blue silos and the fish that I killed. I remember you wouldn't tell me that I killed it; you just let it swim away to die. My thoughts are going to the place on your wrist right where it bends. There is an ink mark there, from your favorite blue pen. Its the same one that you used to write with on the back of my car, because you thought it would be funny. My dad is still upset about it. That was 162 days ago. And my thoughts are going to the scar on the side of your face. Its on the left, almost in your hairline so not many people know it's there. And they're going to the day when you left. 
Now I can't go anywhere beautiful without tasting you there and I've finally figured out why storms are named after people. 

XX
Rothko