here's me sitting on the bench outside of barnes and noble. i've just listened to prefab sprout's demo versions of "talking scarlet" and "diana" fifty thousand times. the expanded talking scarlet lyrics make me stuporous. when the first one is on your mind, then the other one isn't far behind. i'm wearing my ministry burning inside t-shirt which is suddenly appealing to me again, after passing it by in the closet for several years without so much as a hellosirhowareyou.  and my punk rock bracelet. smoking rum-dipped cigarillos... through a plastic filter, forgodssake whatanobnoxiousfagimustlooklike. yeahwhateverfuckoff, hah, i weigh onesixty today and feel pretty good. my optometrist told me that i should wear my emo glasses, or else i will be in danger of looking less like a benchwarmer for team weezer. andsomethingorotheraboutbeingmyopic. the sun is going down and the plan is to skim through a lot of expensive imported magazines and notbuyanyofthem. i don't need spectacular, today. or crunk. or high adventure. the small details were quite enough for me, today.