I will never understand how dreams work. And I never really want to. They’re a mystery to me. I always think they’re like a new movie, and somewhere in my brain where dreams happen there’s a giant wall with a projector screen. And I’m the only one in the movie theater watching. But the dreams are always hazy. So I have a reason for that too. I’ve been hot boxing the entire place all night. I don’t want the real reason for lots of things. I like to create them in my mind. You ever try to create something that’s obviously made up and illogical and try actually believing it? Its like getting told Santa is real for the first time and thinking “is there really a fat man in a red suit making me toys right now?” That’s the great thing about all this nonsense. It can be whatever you want, you can believe it. Just never lose the idea that no matter what you think is true, there will always be another hazy version of it, ill be there to tell you about it. Its 5:07 a.m. I don’t feel that life begins till 6 a.m. Sometimes I feel like sitting on my roof and watching the sunrise. But the tiles are slippery and I might fall off. Its ok, ill watch it from the ground but not for long. Writing these does something for me. Gets my thoughts out? Makes my situation easier to understand? Keeps me sane? I don’t exactly know. Feels like I have to write these. Out of sheer necessity to write and not feel completely useless in life. Mrs. Macy would be proud of me that I’m writing. Ha. She’d be proud I’m actually not on drugs right now. I will miss her so much. She has always been there for me. For anyone who reads these everytime I write them, thanks.

youknowwhy

thisisthepartwhereyoushush

its bothering me why I want to write so much. I’m pulling 2 a day. Whyyyyyyy.

“Chris don’t worry about Robert. Chris worry about Chris.” “Chris don’t worry about Richard. Chris worry about Chris” and so on and so forth. My mom always wanted me to worry about me. But I never wanted to worry about anything to begin with. I just wanted to do stupid things. That was me as a much younger kid. I’m still a kid. But that was me, stupid. If someone left a bat out, I would hit something. If someone left the records out in the garage, I would throw them like frisbees. If I found a nice rock, I would throw it. If I found a new ball in the front yard, I would kick it, or throw it at BooBoo. That was me. That is me. I’m a kid. I didn’t worry about Robert or Richard. I just wanted to know what they were doing. I was curious. I am curious. Now that I’m a little older, I’m still stupid. Still curious. But its beneficial to me. I know how to learn from it. I know how to see something and be like hmmmm will that get me in trouble? Yes? Ok lets see what happens. I just want to know. Don’t you see? Curiosity didn’t kill the cat. Curiosity just became its new owner. It now guides the cat where it needs to be. Right to its bowl. What’s in the bowl?

My grandmas best friend called me simba. And her friends son called me simba. His name was randy. And the friends name was punky. She really did have pink hair for a minute. She was really nice too. She had the big bubble hair-do for the longest time. I loved her and randy. They loved me too. If someone called me simba, I would probably give you a hug and say thank you. I don’t know why I thought of punky today. She was always over at my grandmas house. She died when I was 7 or 8. Randy died a while after that. My grandma loved Randy like her own son.

deep thoughts while I was playing frisbee today. And it was consistent. You ever notice how everything blends? Just generally. It all is one big pot of something. More and more things get into the pot till whatever that’s in it finally taste really good. Or really bad. But you always want to try it. Its right there for you to sample. No one makes you try it. You want to try, its almost like if you don’t you’ll never get that chance again. So you have to try whatever is in the pot. Maybe you made a nice big batch of unbaked pot brownies and its just a prequel to your astro brownies. But then it might be bleach. See where I’m gettin at? Its unpredictable. Its a big black pot of something. Don’t be a bitch, try whatever is in the pot.

having little siblings is nice. Being the oldest. My mom says I’m lucky that I’m the oldest. I’ve always wanted someone to look up to. I look up to Tony. That’s different though because he’s my pops. I set most of my own examples. I look up to myself in most situations. Almost like my own inspiration. I’ve never had to think about someone picking on me. No one ever has. I wonder why. No one has tried. Maybe they have, I just didn’t care. I don’t care about a lot. But I care a lot about the things that I actually do care about.

-floatin

The scent of people interests me. I’m starting to remember which scent is who’s. Shannon always had a hint of strawberry. Always. I could never figure out what the other thing was. But it was definitely strawberries just not the overall scent. Sometimes I hug people by the head just to figure out what their scent is. Considering the odds and ends of my personality, people don’t really trip about it. They seem to be ok with it. Maybe because they’re just used to me. Now the tastes, ahahahah, another time.

-floatin