Tuesday, September 24, 2002
my sister michelle is taking piano lessons. i cut my hair. Confused. Feeling down. All the people who read know my name. So why do i call myself Rose? Why does importance attach itself to what anyone thinks? What is thinking? how are we able to think? it's a dark cd. Dark, but not the song. This should be on my poetry site. i have one, you know. (who is "you?") it's abstractpoetary.blogspot.com so go there and amuse yourself. i started it before this one. i only started this one to tell about that one 25th anniversary picnic anyway. So its purpose is over.
