I saw a dead body today. at first I didn't know he was dead. neither did the lady who came to visit him. a neice, maybe. when I walked past the room, I saw her crying and asked her what was wrong. he's dead. frankie's dead, she said. apparently he died last night. props to the hospital for not telling the family.


completely different topic... I was sitting in chemistry class earlier tonight and had the BIGGEST craving for earl's chicken fingers and pecan pie. earl's is a family restaurant out in south buttcrack (the maps say holland), new york that has the highest hic-quotient I've ever seen. the dress code is cowboy hats and manure-coated boots and the soundtrack is moaning-about-the-dead-dog country. we used to go for a feast on nights-off from camp. after a couple days of chickenless salad, there is nothing that tastes as good as grease with ketchup, earl's style.


sinbad is telling now me to go to bed. all they do is sleep in this house. eight hours a night. sheer lunacy, it is. off to dream about dead people...