Saying that things are changing would be an understatement.  The leaves are not the only things in transition right now.  Everyone I know seems like they are under an extreme stress physically or emotionally.  Such stress that it doesn't just interrupt daily life but it changes it drastically.  So, it's fine.  I don't mind change once it happens, only the things that lead up to it.  I'm good at moving and changing.  Not good at goodbyes though.   Will see Russellville in only a few days I think.  For how long I dunno. 

I don't have the internet right now which suuuuuuuuuuucks.  I am at my last day of working at Machu Picchu.  The Peach, Mach Pach, Pikachu.  I'm going to miss the coffee and the smell of garlic and onions frying.  I don't really like either of those things when I'm eating but the flavor of them is really important it turns out.  I can also eat really ridiculously spicy things now with no real problem.  Orrrr, maybe I just care less about physical discomfort.  I can also cuss you out completely in spanish, Mericon. I just rolled silverware for the last time.  Woooo.  At this place.  Who am I kidding, I bet silverware rolling is in my near future.  No use being sentimental about that.  I'm not going to like being the new guy again!  It's ok, it doesn't take me long to subtly become the boss of EVERYONE.  And it's only until after I'm gone that they realize I was actually in charge.  heeeeeheeeeeee

Wanna see a pic of some boobs?
 
I love Halloweeen.

 my favorite picture right now.

Nowadays I have a crazy dream every night.
 Did you know nowadays is in my computer's spell check?
I'll skip one of them.  It was really bad.  So bad that I woke up screaming and sweaty and it woke Mac up too.
BUT, last night I dreamed I was a girl....I am a girl.  But a blond girl and I had a sister who was younger and had brown hair.  I was 15 or so and I was really pretty.  I was supposed to be with my little sister while she rode really dumb rides at this year round fair..sortof like Coney Island.  I snuck under one of the bigger rides she was on and was smoking a cigarette with a carnie when my parents caught me.  They found me and were so mad that I was smoking that we got in a big fight and my 'mom' made me smoke two cigarettes at once without breathing air, only smoke, until I got sick.  By the time we were done we all realized that my little sister was gone.  My parents and I ran all around the theme park until it closed down.  This was hours later and we had checked everywhere.  My parents blamed me for her missing and I ran away.  I knew through my sister and I's 'nurse' that she wasn't found.  I blamed myself and also my parents for what happened and I ran even farther away and not knowing how to take care of myself I married an older rich guy with dark cherry furniture and stuffed ducks in his office.  At the beginning of this marriage his mom caught me going through things in her bathroom and she locked me in there for a long time and threatened me because she assumed I was just marrying her son for his money, etc.  She was right so I kept quiet while she secretly let loose her freakiness on me for several?ish years. 
Skip forward 15 years.  We had a daughter who looked like me and also a son who I can't remember right now.  I got a message at the post office that was sent to everyone near there about a couple looking for their long lost daughter which was me.  I took the photo and message and ran to my husband's office to hide and think but someone had already noticed it was me in the picture.  Our old 'nurse' found me soon and confessed that my sister was actually found a couple of days later and I had been gone for so many years and estranged myself from everyone and everything for no real reason.  My parents had tried to find me but I became the lost sister instead of her.  It ends with my daughter who is wearing a fur coat running up to hug my mother in law in an air port and saying 'Thank God you are here in this mess." This is when I feel the most alone.   And then we all turn and look at my real family who has just got off of a plane.
 
That's all for that dream.

Thanks Logan for liking my Godbey layout.
And Matt, these don't feel like prophetic dreams.
And Lauren, Hi.

Maybe it's the weather or something but I can't stop thinking about Katie this morning.  It's stupid that after someone dies you begin to appreciate different things about them.  Like walking down a street that you usually drive.
Today, I remembered her balls.  She had some serious balls.  She went through a phase where she was painting huge pictures of a woman who was half skeleton from top to bottom and half flesh-y that looked AN AWFUL lot like her mom, sitting in her favorite lawn chair smoking.  Her mom would look at them and say....'Hmmm.  I don't like this one Kate.'  The skeleton mom pictures.  Those were good.

I miss her life-like gorilla suit and hiding food in her mom's decor. 


After she died her older brother told me that the comedy had gone out of his life, significantly.  I feel the same way!
The caption for this picture was 'on Christmas night we get drunk and take pictures with this creepy animatronic santa.'  From her album Christmakah.  She's plainly Jewish.

What if people really are mostly the combined effort of those around them?  Including the group of people who raised them and their early friends, to the ones they have now and the influences they have now (if they are not their parents)... That would mean that you better only hang out with cool people.  Or that parents who suck produce kids that suck.  The older I get, the more stock I put in parents' influence on their children.  Moms who have kids early have kids who have kids early, etc.  People who get married early's kids get married early.  People whose parents are racist tend to be racists as well.  I think our parents' influence on us is severely strong.  Whether it pushes you to mimic them or to correct them. 
I got my mom's critical sense and diplomacy, but I corrected her tendency to judge.  (I have a problem holding to that though)
Be good parents...
Also, don't beat your kids.

I went on my second-most interesting bike ride today.  The first was when I saw Wayne Newton and had a fu-manchu painted on my face. 
Today me and a friend ditched a Tour we were in because we totally didn't fit in and all the old peeps were kicking our asses.  We decided to go at our own pace and it was a good idea.  We met a guy I've been wanting to meet.  He camps on the side of the road and he pulls a big wagon on foot.  I don't know how sane he is but he is nice.  He gave me and my friend water because we were on bikes and he talked to us about what he's up to.  He gets loads of publicity for his cause (less governmental control, homelessness, etc) and police leave him alone.  He's been on Good Morning America I guess?  And newspapers all over.  Then, instead of getting back with the bikers, we went to a neat park and accidentally ended up in a re-enactment of early settlers.  Met some cool peeps there, went mountain biking, got really embarrassed by the mayor and saw a cannon shoot into the Arkansas River.  They were making bread and churning butter and they let us hang out in a covered wagon.  Then we rode back to the lunch that the bikers were having like we had been on the tour the whole time.  The tshirt says 'a ride across conway countryside'.  Except it was on a icky highway.  But we made it through some countryside.  20 something miles of it I think.  I crashed hard earlier.
Right after the ride I went to a Spradlin family reunion.  I hardly know any of them which is weird since we have the same last name and are directly related.  But my cousin Kandra was there telling me explicit details of her impregnation very loudly.  Describing in detail her and her fiance's orientations.  It was.... life.  In its most open form.  Which I have had the opportunity to appreciate almost fully today.

 

I went on a big bike ride.  I found this hill that I didn't know was there and so I went up it.  When I got to the top there was a train going by below and they were setting the tracks on fire then a guy stood in the back and hosed them off.

"Who has never killed an hour? Not casually or without thought, but carefully: a premeditated murder of minutes. The violence comes from a combination of giving up, not caring, and a resignation that getting past it is all you can hope to accomplish. So you kill the hour. You do not work, you do not read, you do not daydream. If you sleep it is not because you need to sleep. And when at last it is over, there is no evidence: no weapon, no blood, and no body. The only clue might be the shadows beneath your eyes or a terribly thin line near the corner of your mouth indicating something has been suffered, that in the privacy of your life you have lost something and the loss is too empty to share."
Danielewski - House of Leaves


Anyways, trying to do stuff.