I wandered around town with Peter Feeney. I found a frisbee sitting ontop of some recycling, I grabbed it. Peter and I both then went over to my mom's office. She had cookies. We ate the cookies. The English in these sentences is far more complex than the English on the mother fucking god damnit to hell cock sucking pussy eating TerraNovas. We should have had to base our movie on Howel, not some fucking dumbass poem about Freeways and cars. I mean a poem about cars and freeways could be cool in an urban isolationists commentary on our political and economic dependence on all of this shit, but NO! Otherwise things are going well. Otherwise, Matt's in Colorado, but still calls everyday. Haha, Peter Feeney thinks that Matt is shifty -snerk-. Well that's life now ain't it?