Bird shit and fake flowers.

I just remembered that I wrote that I said that I thought that I should never forget that I have an idea.

And everything is the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen.

Being a lunch lady is heartbreaking.
I probably get what I deserve.

Watching kids eat french fries and throw french fries and trying to act decent and they're in their own beautiful world and nobody's telling them that it's not going to last forever. Nobody's telling them that what they don't eat'll be fed to the pigs. Everything and those eggshells and leftover breakfast bacon. Do you understand?

It's honesty and it's poverty and they'll do what they can and they'll take what they can get. Anything they can get. They roll their own cigarettes. All they want to know is which roads you take to get to here to work and maybe for a minute they maybe might ask what you want to do with your life, but they're so lost. So they'll scatter on to whatever next of a topic and how all they want to do is get out of work soon today but they keep taking cigarette breaks and they're terrified of spiders, and would I like to kill that spider right there, that one, midair? --of course, I can only say, so I catch it and throw it in the daylilies. Stay alive!

When I get back to where I'm living now and my mother can smell the smoke in my hair and she asks, Where the hell have you been?

Nowhere, I say.