My dad once told me "Today it will be hard out there. Go out there anyway." My phone ticked down to three percent. I sat down to write about ritual and my computer crashed. They estimate Phil Connors was stuck in the Groundhog loop for 30 years. It is very hard to become an ice sculptor. I own these jeans that never fit right but they cost $80 so I always wear them. I do my best writing in emails. When I was a teenager I loved an older man and my therapist says he loved power. I would eat only fruit for days, carry around dirty strawberries in a Ziploc bag. One time he told me "You don't buy a gun because it's pretty." I've tried all my life to be popular and skinny. In 2007 Sam and I had a long email chain called "crash boom bang," another named "you're the life of the party patty." How does a woman trust herself? All this hair growing thick and fast. Love me, blonde world. Things will crack you up. The "J" stands for "John." Sometimes I worry that I'll open my eyes one morning and a skill I've built myself on will be wiped away. No warning. Apparently, Asprin is a wonder drug. A guy in a Star Wars shirt ran massacre in an airport with everyone quietly nodding. I want to walk for miles but it's the ice making me distrustful. I'm worried about money. I had my friend meet me in an unheated building and take my picture. All of this I'm writing here is real. I'm making a short film. It is about being nineteen. Do you ever write something and then worry it's the last thing you'll ever make? Do you do nice things because you're nice or because you think someone is watching? Hey-- they demolished another building downtown. No warning. Apparently Aspirin will make your guts bleed. The tail light in my car is busted. We always think things are winking when really they're broken. This summer I fell out of love. Fell out of a very large web, fell out of the topsoil, fell out of a tire swing. Found myself in the dictionary somewhere between pulverize and queen.