Today I met a guy who looked like Buddy Holly.

If I’m able to write thirty stories by the end of the year, I am probably some kind of machine. So, since this obviously isn’t ture, I won’t, but I should set some kind of attainable goal for myself and stop being so whistful and dreamy about something I’ m not even working towards. That is dumb.

Anyway, my goal is to keep this blog updated. Simple? And write a poem today.

raucous rhythms
strings hands fingernails against fret boards
two tennis rackets colliding

So there we are.


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