24.10.07 - 1:35 a.m.
i think your house is gone, said an email from a girl who used to live down the street. her parents sold their house the year after mine did. the wild animal park went and with it most of the large animals that couldn't be housed or transported. from our safe haven, 1500 miles away, rob and i named people who'd been evacuated. our home is burning, like halloween four years ago, the year jason went as a shark, that kid bizarro went as the freshly dead elliot smith and rafter satirized our common tragedy by dressing in astroturf with little blazes dotting the landscape of his shoulders. there's a baby on the way despite thyroid conditions and trips to japan. my whole family feels closer with this representation here in the earth wind and fire tourbus, with me screaming for our suburb when he mentions it on stage. god bless you, san diego, someone yelled from the dancing mass, and my friends started playing a song that everyone in the room knew the words to.