Jenny is dead

The heat is worse than when we left, maybe a million and one degrees out which is interesting to say the least. I walk into my backyard to check on Jenny but she's dead. The sun pulled the life out of her, she's curled up eyes open stiff inside her little plastic house. I don't bury her I'm sick of burying animals. I sit down by the pool and listen to the morning parrot that belongs to the neighbor. Little white lies fill my head I think of Vegas and how well it went and where I am now but it's all relative. I have a pouch around my neck and I'm emptying it into my hand and I'm in my mind against that wall staring into the mirror wondering why me and he sits across from me outside and has this weird half smile thing, he looks like a friend of mine and he's talking about something I don't really wanna hear but I pretend to listen cause he's so pretty. I see right through him and words fall from his tongue like soap they have no substance just little white lies little boys. My pool is pretty cold and I'm moving out of this house on Wednesday so I try to take it all in. We spend the weekend falling in pools and dancing at the Roosevelt. Our slumber party at the tree house turns awkward with Black and White cat stories and I trace the cross on Chris' back with my finger and we all fall asleep upstairs and wake up with sweat running down our faces. Juice mission through Pasadena and we're back at the pool watching back to the future on the projector and everything feels hot and lovely."
september 4 2007 blog, my hamsters death