"Hey, gang. What's the action?" -Frank Reynolds, IASIP.
I'm new, and I have wings. My roommate is sleeping. Snoring, actually; and the air conditioner is so loud, like a wheezing, little chain smoker. Scratchy, too, like someone eating gravel. All of the flowers I received for my birthday are wilting and brittle and still sitting by my bed. I think I shall leave them there for now, to see how long it will be before Sarah demands their absence. I will refuse, of course. I love to do battle. I just crushed one brown leaf in my palm, and the sound was satisfyingly loud. How is she still sleeping? Wake up. Please don't. She is insufferable at times, which is strange for me to say because I generally get along with everyone and anyone. All of her drinks in the fridge are marked with a fading, scratchy sharpie. Her initials, SEV. Like she supposes I am going to steal one of her green tea snapples and fanta orange cans. No, thank you. I'd rather walk on coals. My phone is buzzing, but I'm ignoring it. It's too early for me to make conversation with someone who does not know me well enough to not call at anytime before noon. Midnight would be too early by half. I'm just rambling now to warm this place up a little. It seems quite lonely with no stories or poems or pictures or creations to keep it company, and no readers to read them and no seers no see them. It's friday, though. I am going to have a nap, and then watch a little bit of Charlie running around being delicious on It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia before someone comes to drag me away and make me be social. I cannot believe I just capitalized those words; normally I suffer from a condition known as NGAF, Not Giving A Fuck. Sorry, I have a potty mouth. Nice to meet you, though. Sarah's still sleeping, but Jenny Lewis sounds better louder and I'm feeling wicked. And really, how can anyone sleep through the sound the sun is making outside my window?

- savannah neutral