found twiggie something i want to run away from. 010211 ... argo Tucking a five dollar bill in a winter coat, writing with salt on the frozen sidewalk. Putting on a Boo Radley costume and writing puzzles on the bottom of my feet. It's too obvious that I want to be found out. 010212 ... chanaka i've found that we are walking a very fine sharp edge. the edge is starting to cut my feet. can we decide? 010212 ... twiggie the only way i can get through this right now, is to think about what life will be like afterwards. i'm so tired of everyone only half caring, too caught up in their own lives. i'm just the little girl everyone runs to when they're sick of their other friends, or have nothing else to do, or can't find anyone else to make plans with. i'm just the last resort. it's ok, i'll just sit in my room for awhile longer and listen to vast and write and paint and decorate. i might as well spend my time turning my room into a place i love to be, seeing as that's where i spend the most of my hours. 010218 ... birdmad lost 010218 ... Cicero Clicking about the blue I was linked to your past And something in your future. And so I tumbled, Down Down Down Into the other one. 030309 ... nom i'm thinking of doing something with found things, and sound 070327 ... tender_square dad donned a pale yellow casual button down as he pulled the fiat into my driveway. "did you bring your sunglasses?" i was squinting beneath the brim of my baseball hat. dad tapped his breast pocket. i gave him a nod as i walked to the back of the car, popped the trunk, and placed my pull cart inside. "did you bring cash?" "honey, i always have cash. i'm a walking atm," he smiled. "are you looking for anything in particular?" "just anything that catches my eye even though it's going to drive your mother mad." the week prior, mom had handed me a circular wooden box painted black with a sun and moon overlapping on the lid. "stop giving away my stuff!" he'd grumbled when he saw the piece sitting beside my purse in the foyer. "i bought this with leo!" "i'm looking for a cool stand lamp, but i don't know if i'll find one," i conceded. "there's not much room in this car," he said. "it's not like i'm buying a bedroom set!" dad pulled into a gravel lot and parked the tiny car between automotive heavyweights. we exited the car and i grabbed my cart. "how do you want to do this? one side of the street and then the other?" the neighbourhood sale was held every year, spanning four blocks in each direction, south to north. dad led us east into an alleyway with overflowing bins of children's books and clothes. toys had settled in amongst the loose gravel. i pointed to a doll-sized bed. "hey! maybe i will get a bedroom set after all." we continued down the sidewalk, dodging other pedestrians, craning our necks to see whether it was worth it to stop and browse. "isn't it sad?" "what's that?" dad asked. "seeing all this stuff. people spent so much money on these items at one point, believing they were valuable, and now they're trying to sell them to others and no one cares." some homeowners were grilling and selling food to passerby. others watched the stream of citizens from their porches with their dogs. i heard a voice from the crowd. "stu!" a middle-aged woman with her hair in a short ponytail stopped dad at the corner. "oh hey!" he said. they spoke for a minute or two and she asked whether he had bought anything. "not yet!" i tried to place her face. i didn't know whether she knew about dad's condition, or if he'd introduce us. "i'm stu's daughter," i piped up. "yeah, i know. i'm bob's daughter, priscilla." "oh! hi! it's good to see you!" i couldn't recall how many times our paths had crossed, or if i'd only met her at bob's funeral years ago. "i still miss my dad," she admitted. "you guys were best friends for a long time. he could always carry on a conversation, though sometimes he probably should've kept his mouth shut!" priscilla chuckled and her blue eyes crinkled. "you have your dad's eyes," i told her. "oh, thank you." she smiled. "and his smile." "i miss bob too," dad added. "you know, i can't even drive past his old apartment, not after finding him like that." "you know, i can't go past there either," priscilla said. the air between our bodies was charged with loss; it was bob, it was dad's slow decline, it was all of us getting older. priscilla parted with her husband and dad and i continued up the block, still hunting. on a sports memorabilia table, i pointed out a wooden box to dad amongst the collector cards. he inspected the box from all angles. "that is a good one," he said, and paid the seller five dollars. i placed the container at the bottom of my big, empty cart. for as long as i could remember, whenever i'd go antiquing with my parents they'd buy small, carved boxes as a way of commemorating where they'd been. they never put anything to rest inside them. 230601 what's it to you? who go blather from