Dear Diary

I've neglected this a bit lately, but does it matter? Who the hell reads this, anyway? Here's a little update for stalkers and friends. Finals are almost over. I just need to finish my twelve page paper for immigrant literature on how religious faith and assimilation are related. I've been writing songs for a band that I'm in with two of my homies. They're funny. And gross. I like writing about gross things. The other day I wrote a poem about Anne Hathaway. She's not gross. Sometimes I like writing about things that aren't gross. But I saw an interview where she said this thing about how her ex-boyfriend wanted to throw out the dried flowers, but she thought they were beautiful. And that's when she realized they wanted different things. I really liked that epiphany from dead flowers. So I guess it's not really about her, just based on this heartbreakingly romantic thing that she said. Hmmm I'll post more of my poetry later. What else? Oh, I've been interning at Gallery 5. It is really dope and I like it a lot. I work in the store, and get new sellers to sign contracts with us to sell their merchandise. I also make stuff and sell it there in the store. It's called GallowLily's. There's a really cool story behind the name. Perhaps I'll tell it one day, when I have all the facts straight. For anyone who doesn't know, Gallery 5 is the second oldest firehouse in the country. Now it's a gallery and performance space. Upstairs is the store, and that's also where the gallows are located. There used to be jail cells up there, too. At some point, I think during the civil war, it became a police station, and then went back to being a firestation. There's a big steamer downstairs. It's cool. You should stop by and check it out. My grandma is coming home soon from the Philippines, and I am super stoked. She's been gone a long time, and I miss her a lot. I miss a lot of things a lot. I might go to Florida in a few weeks, and then to New York next month. We'll see. Plans always change. You don't make any cents, but I don't want your money. Paper cuts. Edits. Get it? Yeah. I knew you would.

Suck it with love,
Kimberly