kaufman

Coke Babe

Finally

Mm sleepy

This is real life right now. 

I am a bird.

I think it’s time we started seeing other people. Look, it’s not you, it’s me. Ok, maybe it’s a little bit you.

Like most relationships that end it’s probably best to say that it was both of us. I guess what I’m trying to say is… we are so over.

It’s been good getting to know each other the past 11 months. When we first met we took things a little fast and that was good. You were so different. From your sensuous curves, to the architecture of your features, to even just your interests and hobbies, you were so apart from what I’d yet known. While it can be fun for a while hanging out with the really popular kids like Chicago or New York, it’s easy to get lost in their grandeur. And getting lost is frustrating. You were big and small at the same time. You did your best to never overwhelm me, and for that I am grateful. Of course, it was still hard to get to know you, but that’s natural when starting a new relationship with someone so different. I was used to big skies and sunsets and unending fields of grain and routine. Being with you just never felt like home. Maybe that’s why things got a little stale between you and me. Yet, I loved how down to earth you were but still remained to be engaged in things like art and music in a way only the popular kids ever can. You had so much more to offer. If only I hadn’t found it so easy to slip back into my routine of nonchalance. My days would end and I was too quick to communicate with you from the confines of my apartment. I should have explored all you had to offer. Most of that had to do with my resources and availability and maybe that helps me make sense of why we can’t see each other any more. I guess what I’m saying is, I never did a good job of making myself available to you. I’m sorry.

But I know it wasn’t all me. Your hubris and crass got old after a while. Some of that pride may be deserved and legitimate, but humility is so much sexier. You seem convinced you are the best, but I’ve met better and it’s not you. I can’t count how many times I was asked what I think of Pittsburgh and if I didn’t say I love it the conversation stopped. Your selfish and entitled and I’m not sure if that’s because you used to be blue collar or because you’ve traded in your blue shirts for white shirts. That’s ironic since I’m making a similar switch. I know there are some people here who are gentle and kind, I’ve met a few, but the chemistry or timing was always off or a little strange. I know better than to think I could ever change you. Maybe we’re just too different. Perhaps I’m too insecure and afraid. I’m like the kid who stands on the edge of the gym with big dreams of what it would be like to dance with the hot girl on the dance floor and imagines himself as cool. Now, I can mingle like nobody else. I can adapt to suit your style. But a little bit of me will feel like a fraud. You will never truly accept me because I’ll never really deserve it. It’s not my identity. Who can live like that? Not me, anyway. The saddest, worst part is I don’t have a starting clue as to who I really am.

Maybe it really is me and isn’t you.

I hope we can still be friends. I hope we can hang out every once in a while. It was fun while it lasted. I’m sure I’ll look back on our time together with fondness. Please don’t judge me for moving back to Indiana. You can never blame anyone for wanting to go home and walk in familiar lands. I’m an Indiana boy. 

Your friend,

Zachary

I can reach a new climbing spot

.

Riding down to the parade.

A Walking Dead discussion

Tradition

This is a real thing:

http://mydickband.bandcamp.com

I hear the beat of the soft pads landing on the floor and I instantly know that they’ve just been where they know they shouldn’t go.

I pause and think about whether I’m going to do anything about it or not. I begin to move to stand making sure to be extra quiet because if they hear me coming it’ll be over before I realize it. I roll my eyes and say a quick prayer. “Take this fresh, ripe anger God because if you don’t I’m going to break their little necks.” 
I reach the kitchen. I bend down to a squatting position and I see his glowing eyes already staring back at me from under the kitchen table, his ears are pointing back slightly assessing the situation. It’s probably Bruce. He’s always doing things he shouldn’t. Owen usually just sits a few yards away and watches. I contemplate getting the spray bottle, although at this point it probably wouldn’t make much sense to him since I didn’t actually catch him on the counter. “You sneaky devil.” I think.

At this point there isn’t much more I can do to teach him so I stand up and go back to the computer to write it down. 
Now I can hear them meowing with a spirited “whir” and sprinting around the apartment.

Jenny took this one.