Some kind of furied frenzy when flurries fell.

I have become infatuated with the idea of leaving Minnesota on the day I say I will.

I once knew someone who would end difficult conversations with 1…2…3… and then hang up.

you don't know me and you don't care to try.

I am fucking angry. She's (I've) come undone. And I have a heavy heart.

I once got picked up at pi by a woman who wrote on a little scrap of paper "I (heart) flannels" and her phone number. I never called it, but kept it in my scrap of paper pile for a while.

November 4, 2008.

I'm exited to have our city back!