Psychic pain, monsoon rain, school again, Joe fucking Mains

Back to school. All the first years seem to be, in order of % of population: a.) pussies; b.) assholes; c.) fat. There's a Quaker-tattooed-slam poet, a clogging skinny white guy (for those of us not from the south, I understand clogging to be tapdancing but more involved/more exciting), a kid who has the family name Life (I hope to god he's a posi-core kid), a kid from western Mass that by all accounts appears to be a sexual predator of fat chicks, and a fat chick (et al). I don't think anyone will be catching what I'm throwing, poetically, and personally, I plan to keep my head down and let the shit fly overhead.

The monsoon is my favorite time of year in Arizona. It's better down here in Tucson.

I miss you all. ("all" sounds so much better than "five dudes.") I've been not-dealing with some psychic pain recently, and that's really blown the keeping-in-touch thing (which I'm not so hot at anyway).

Soon soon.

Love