Some Whole Wheat Words

Ahh, who am I kidding? Cars move slowly, and brake for me as I walk into the afternoon. It’s Sunday. There’s earnest Jazz in the street, not too loud, and the rhythms from passing car radios play gently with one another. The Ethiopians sing from my store’s speakers, quiet and sweetly mournful. Writing is what I love best, and I’m doing it with some frequency. I’m moving into the city in the fall, into exciting new social groups and interesting challenges. The idea of it makes me happy as I sit here and consider my words and chew this excellent cornmeal muffin.

I can be a pretty self-absorbed jerk, and not just sometimes. People say I apologise too much, and I agree, but I feel one is owed, in particular, to the awesome women that I’ve met in the past two years.

I talk a good game, but I’m still mostly thirteen years old. You guys make me really nervous, because you’re all gorgeous and interesting and smarter than I am. In the middle of our conversations, my brain starts going “What are you doing here? Run!” and I start trashing popular things like Facebook or Harry Potter. Solution pending.

See all of you soon!