team leverett will rock the bog on thursdays and sunday evenings, roughly 9-12 chicago time, and we started tonight, but not with a bang. i did get fourth or fifth with justin, and fourth or fifth alone once; with noey we did pretty well too but didn't win. margot called early but we couldn't get on early. we did the best we could.
it's an interesting culture, with a curious use of names to express selves. hello to old friends like oniondip, ann enigma, i voted for kodos, and laia, and what's up with annecentral? i also like people who talk to the bog itself, like chai is SO a word, and i hate NaN. it's interesting when football and the bog cross (geaux saints, colts lose by 11)- curious bedfellows maybe. i'm down on politics and arguing about israel. my favorite is katie rocks the bog....team leverett will rock the bog too.
lost a computer at work (wouldn't wake up after break, no reason) and a truck in herrin (wouldn't come home). i'm grateful, though, it's nothing in the big picture. i'm back at school, and my son is back in kansas, with his friends, his drums, his dorm room. i'll put my prayers on the westbound train, out to where there's nothing to stop the sound of the whistle, carrying over the milo fields, no screech of brakes to wake up the armadillos. try to make some time, and we'll write stories and bog, when the cardboard's put away.
it's an interesting culture, with a curious use of names to express selves. hello to old friends like oniondip, ann enigma, i voted for kodos, and laia, and what's up with annecentral? i also like people who talk to the bog itself, like chai is SO a word, and i hate NaN. it's interesting when football and the bog cross (geaux saints, colts lose by 11)- curious bedfellows maybe. i'm down on politics and arguing about israel. my favorite is katie rocks the bog....team leverett will rock the bog too.
lost a computer at work (wouldn't wake up after break, no reason) and a truck in herrin (wouldn't come home). i'm grateful, though, it's nothing in the big picture. i'm back at school, and my son is back in kansas, with his friends, his drums, his dorm room. i'll put my prayers on the westbound train, out to where there's nothing to stop the sound of the whistle, carrying over the milo fields, no screech of brakes to wake up the armadillos. try to make some time, and we'll write stories and bog, when the cardboard's put away.
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