magnolia coffee 100

My pink, striped, I DO shop at Old Navy, flip flops now have a permanent scar on the bottom from my incessant cigarette snubbing. The plastic thong anchors through the sole, leaving itself in a little vulnerable circle, I left a circle of my own black soot; a reminder of too many trips to the front porch for lung-destruction, phone calls home, thinking while gazing at the Magnolia tree and everything else that comes with the therapy of roughly $3.24 a pack. And even though it all falls apart eventually, that circle will still be there, a singular happy scar.

I've signed up for some crazy/creative psychosis where I have to write 100 words, no more, no less, every day for a month. It's like yoga for the writer. Measured and small, yet tiring at the same time. It's required that you start on the first of the month but my anxiety over doing it prompted me to start a day early, so my entry for May 1st is already composed.

As I write, I'll be posting the entries here as well, to elicit criticism or praise from any and all that would like to read.

Hope all of this isn't nearly as boring as it sounds. Enjoy.