Untitled.
8 May 2001
told anne about my inability to see anything in my mind's eye except fields of yellow flowers. "maybe you should work with it," she said. "it might be a little surreal, but you'd be happier with it, right?"
yellow flowers it is. as if giant glowing teeth aren't strange enough on their own.
i'd blame it on the moon, but i think my ideas are probably this odd most of the time.