Björk
"possibly maybe"
Akhil Reed Amar
The Bill of Rights
I told Todd how breaking the bottle of Joshua Tree desert sand made me cry. How I sat for 30 minutes in the middle of it all, mourning my loss and regretting my carelessness. He cheered me by saying that by saving the sand and planning to buy a new bottle to house it in, I've just given it a new twist in its wacky life. He didn't offer to take me to lunch though. He's a little out of practice.
I have no single, straight, male, late twenties/early thirties friends in Boston. How can this be? I was in search of one this weekend to bounce ideas off of... and nothing. Maybe I should place an ad.
I finally brought some toys to the office to decorate my cube. A few carry-overs from the old MEDI-cube, like the squeezie lungs, the soap bubbles, the magic eight ball, and my collection of McDonald's Fried Apple Pie boxes. But I also brought postcards to hang on my walls: Elvis Costello, the Statue of Liberty, Mr. Bubble, the Cornell Hot Truck, Woody Allen, and a sparse one that simply says, "Meet him here."
Now that the "photo album" project is complete, I'm back to painting favorite words on my floor. (I had to get the photos off the floor in order to make this possible.) So it's not too late... send me your words now!