Why are there razor blades
underneath your words?

its freezing here in the northern capital...the others are in the other room watching Benny and Joon...the Leaf game exclaims above my keyboard...there are paintings on the walls that i did years ago and gave away as gifts...at the time i thought i might have talent, but as i see them now...i realize my complete lack...which is fine...on the wall sits a sullen-looking portrait of Baudelaire that was painted by a friend some years ago...he possessed talent...

to some degree, i wish i had taken some art classes in high school...i was more focused on playing the trombone...a ridiculous instrument for a ridiculous person...