It happens.

I hate getting in phone fights with my mom.

I would fly. A lot. Everywhere.

There are many homeless people on Fort Street. Such is life.

The other day, there was a homeless guy chillin on Hotel St. with his shopping cart. There was a large metal canister in the front of the cart. Intrigued, I watched him as I waited for the light to turn. The man pulled out a balloon and secured it over the canister. With a push of his thumb, the balloon inflated. After a few seconds, he took the balloon off and tied it shut.

I had already missed a light and was standing still through another one, just watching the man.

He looked at the balloon and let it go. He craned his neck to watch as it rose higher and higher between the buildings. It climbed upward, blowing slightly. The balloon was a mere speck when the man returned his gaze back to earth. He paused for a moment and seemed to sigh.

Then he pulled out a new balloon and did it all again.

He's my new favorite homeless person.

I share the midnight.

I could use some direction in my writing.

An Arcade Fire song just came on. Wake Up, from Funeral. I fucking love this song. It's the song that goes with the trailers for Where the Wild Things Are. Consequently, I really want to see this movie.

Maybe it's just the song that does it for me.
Maybe it's that desperate attempt to hang onto what I loved in childhood.
Maybe it's because that the boy who plays Max looks familiar.
Almost exactly like Ben.

Ben. Six years, seven months, three days, and about ten hours. It's been a while since I thought about him.

Whenever I see the trailer or I hear the song, my throat gets a little tighter. My knees weaken a little and I get quiet.

I think I know what I want from life. But I'm not sure I can put it here.