The Battlefield Where the Girls Say I Love You



That's just the thing: we will never tell you we love you. In fact, we're here only to hold hands across state lines and yell at the world. We're here to try to touch you across this chasm of flown things. Not even that. At most, I will teach you how to make a gin smoothie when there's nothing left in the house. Hannah can teach you several languages and what to do when your car breaks up with you. Thanks for coming out.

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

what light


*click on individual pics to blow them up

in equally divine matters: i'm heading to greenville this weekend to celebrate mamie's bday with her. i can't wait to be there already, with her falling sideways into rose bushes... because right now, she's doing that micro-managing thing she's always talking about her mother doing. except, she's totally oblivious to doing it.

mame: i don't micro-manage.

me: you just told me when to come, as in what hour i needed to leave wilmington. i'm going to blog about how micro-managing you are.

mame: just as long as you open with...

me: i can't hear you because i just hung up.

earlier that day...

me, upon hearing the bloop-bleep sound of a fancy car: what's that noise? did a car just honk at you?

her, from her outback: no, it's me. see, my car's just like me. it thinks it's a lamborghini.

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