*a son of a gun of a chorus. 2001-05-30 10:38 a.m.*

i have a kitten nibbling at my face.

i have all these records, of my mom's. and i find myself avoiding some and listening to others. i think i'm going to wait on the james taylor until i know i'm going to cry anyway. so instead i listen to jimmy buffett, because he makes me think of jennifer connelly, and although i do miss her tremendously, it's different somehow. her music makes me want to relax on a bed and close my eyes and daydream about days to come and all the fun the end of this semester was, while james' music makes me want to curl up in this ball with my hand on my chest where i like to put it on her chest because that soothes the ache a little bit.

kitten is now safely nesteled between my legs and the keyboard. she is squinting in that way that says i'd be asleep now if the typing wasn't so damn loud, mom!

i am reading i was a teenage fairy now. yay francesca lia block. how did you get so cool?

rar. chickmail hates this computer.

la la la. i'm boring.

*listening to: *
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