they pulled my hair at charm school.

they stole my guestbook during rolecall.

BROADCAST THIS + October 16. = 6:28 p.m.

ride home takes place in jeff m's red mustang convertible (a rental). we giggle the whole way because it seems so ridiculous. we rue the fact that it is too cold for the top down. everything is orange. the light, the mailboxes, the pavement. i know every street we pass by name. i know the pros and cons of every intersection. i know that my neighbor has left his wife for another man. he stops by when she is not home. she's put pumpkins on the porch without his help.

i keep dreaming about streets in nyc...am trying to cross them, am searching for a gum shop (!?) gum has featured prominently in my dreams lately. in one i refuse to shake boy's hand; i point to my sticky palm (orbit gum, surely) and shrug my shoulders. he smiles and walks away.

at work, becky is the cutest in her beige sweater with the felt B in the upper left hand corner. p. tells me about serial killer trading cards, countess of hungary who slaughtered over 600 virgins, and in great detail: what strep throat looks like.

i sent my first "manuscript" out. in a manilla folder. the story stars a woman named milcah.

i miss emailing during work hours with SF.

my beau is in brooklyn opening a sold-out show and i am just GREEN all over about not being able to be there.

also, am a sucker for this boy's descriptions.

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ghosts!