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2001-02-15 || 4:37 || to johnny sandwich || dear estranged troubador brother who won't let me fix his pants for him: i like making hot chocolate for you. i like it when you are happy and willing to dance to snoop dogg in the kitchen. i like it when you teach me how to play mario tennis and then we both decide it is not nearly as fun as you remember. i like it that you are being productive, churning out brilliant songs, feeling good about you, playing shows, letting the accolades sink in a little. but i am not convinced that you trust your happiness. maybe you shouldn't think about it so much. maybe by dissecting it you are cutting it into pieces that become very hard to pick up. when i was nine and my sister was seven we would get out the bucket after it rained and collect earthworms from the gutter. we would sit under the tree by timmy's house and dissect them, cut them up into tiny pieces, and wait for the regenerative process to begin. but we didn't even give them a fighting chance. guestbook || notes || archives || profile || photos || d-land |