All i want to write about late­ly is sun­sets and awk­ward hugs and redis­cov­er­ing coconut mac­a­roons and under­wear and sec­ondish chances and grow­ing old and jus­tice and my new aware­ness of food indus­try issues and the smell of out­doors no mat­ter what the sea­son and want­i­ng to see Germany and my new Magic decks and that last date and how hard it is to do Street Fighter IV com­bos and pic­tures like this

and not hav­ing to wear a coat any­more and hand­shakes after real­ly close games and peo­ple being nice to me and feel­ing more com­fort­able with barre chords and what Geneviève wears and Breaking Bad and Nick Drake’s life and root beer floats and the sound of a melod­i­ca and pret­ty cats and open­ing boost­ers and the lux­u­ry of say­ing no and how weird it feels to dri­ve some­where in your PJs and intro­duc­ing oth­ers to that aloe drink and the same old mem­o­ries that I still cher­ish and mini-Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and walk­ing base­lines and being sur­round­ed by such good peo­ple and hav­ing a PS3 and the time com­plex­i­ty of sort­ing algo­rithms and won­der­ing if it’s too late to call and how excit­ed Ryan gets when I vis­it and the songs I want to write and my mem­o­ries of America and scent­ed oils from the Body Shop and choco­late beers and the image of a gauzy dress in the sun.