
Originally written on 2-20-2004
The gum that lays dorment at the bottom of my desk has its’ own story. I don’t know it though. The big pink on, I call him buddy. He’s definatly getting no tannage down there. Yesterday it was like an upside down volcano, but today it’s changed; it look more like a flock of seagulls haircut. I wonder who put it there and why. Were they cool, or not? Were they saving it? Were they too lazy to walk down the stairs to give it a proper barial? That my friends is as big a mystery as the number of licks it takes to get to the center of tootsy pop. I sometimes wonder if it will fall onto me of my stuff, but soon my worries are subdued by something else and buddy is forgotten till I accidentally almost make contact with him again.
There's No Place Like Home
Home Page
Journal Station
Reflection