I don't know

Dear Paper Girl,
I miss you too.
I even miss that orange dress.
Damn you brown elephant.
I give to them more often then I take from them.
When I'm time traveling,
I clean,
Like a rabid dog
Of Israel.
And cleaning for me means throwing just about everything away.
I don't pretend that I'm normal.
Oh, please.
(Get over yourself Josephine).
Time traveling is a term coined by myself and friend boy.
It's a code word.
It's a shield.
A feather that could be magic if the elephant would ever wake up.
It means that I'm freaking out.
It means that I can't breath.
It means that I need help.
It means that I'm stuck.
I can't get the Internet to work for example on some idle Wednesday,
And also my biological clock is ticking rather inconveniently because I don't have a career.
See where I'm going with this?
Something small, like I forgot to pay the Com Ed bill or take my birth control,
And then I'm a terrible writer and nobody loves me,
like in the same micro nano second.
And the effect this realization has on me is not meant for blogs.
And that's where the time traveling comes in,
code,
remember the last time you time traveled?
It was nothing.
Eat.
And sometimes I don't know that I'm time traveling,
because the nature of this thing is such that it can convince you that it really is monumental,
something to cry and die for.
So friend boy can say,
You're time traveling,
EAT.
And no matter what, I have to listen.
It's a code.
A pact.


I miss Paper girl.
Sadness is different then Time Traveling.
And I don't know why paper girl ended up at the top of the time traveling letter.
But, we don't have to know these things.
I think I realized recently that Paper Girl is very very wise.
I always knew she was my girl and she was sublime.
But, recently I've noticed something new.
Something mountain top.
hope she doesn't mind me going on about it here.


In conclusion:
For the record:
As a tip:
Wear some orange today.
You may think you don't like orange.
That is crap.
I don't understand when folks say they don't like Christmas.
Or kitties.
Or talking children on television.
You can't just not like the whole blanken thing.
That is limiting to all of us.
Just wear some orange.
Or EAT it.
Or look it up in a book.
It's not to be ignored.
It's a star.
A real one.
My heart,
Skin and Toast
P.S. I know, right?