Naked I lie on my long green pillow with it between my legs, my arms hugging it.  It’s so soft.  So smooth.  And it smells so good.  Like my comforter when I use it for a long time.  I wallow in my blankets and intertwine with them around my body.  I writher and twist and pop up onto my butt and sit up.  I lean against the white blobbed wall.  Yes, it has blobs all around it and I think you know what I am talking about.  Sometimes I just stare at the white unusual paint blobs and make little constellations out of them like of a bear or I usually see weird looking people in them. 
    I put on my lingerie and open the blinds.  People walk outside of my window but I really don’t care.  Only my neighbors do and it is mostly a private street.  And most of the time I am on my bed so they can’t see me unless they really get up close to my window like on our lawn.
    Talk about karma.  Once I show any sort of honesty I usually get a sly remark back about something innocent I have done wrong.  I did not say it out of ill intent.  I usually say it with a smile or laugh because I am teasing, not being mean like they are.  But enough bad talk.  It will not ruin my day.
    I am going shopping in a while.  I will buy water.  Possibly crackers, soap and toothbrushes if we go to the right store.  I could get more but I am trying to live off the least of the land.  Maybe I should not get soap.  I have more than three bars left until next month.  I only have one toothbrush though.  Crackers are for only when I am really hungry between meals.  And water is essential even though I am usually drinking Coke.
    Life.  My teddies.  The water bottles I am dreading to throw away.  The dull cokes I will have to drink warm.  I am already dressed to go but my house manager who I go grocery shopping with usually doesn’t keep her word.  “We’re going shopping today,” usually doesn’t mean Today.  But maybe Tomorrow.  But I got dressed anyway.
    John…Scott…Teoni…hmm.  My music teacher in sixth grade, the librarian, my english teachers…maybe my obsessions really are not.  Maybe theyre just people I love to remember because they were nice to me.
    I remember there was this one kid who saw me fixing my one dollar umbrella on the ground at the bus stop.  He asked me where I was going and if he could come along with me.  i said “No” but he got on the bus anyway.  Then he had no money or something and so got back off.  Haha.  I smiled as the bus drove away because I thought it was sort of funny.  And I thought his boldness was cute.  Later I found out he knew my neighbors and always asked them for pot.  He had the most awful laugh.  Like a shrill high voice.  Like it was Evil or something.  Like he was being mischievous.  I had to do spell check.  This whole time I’ve been pronouncing the word mischievious.  with the vee in it.  How weird.
    My new Triond friend takes so long to answer me.  The one who called my rape article pathetic is stalking him and I and reading and commenting on our articles.  My friend, Street Person or SP as he calls his self, shouldn’t have more important things than writing to me to do.  He is bedridden like I am except I can walk and he probably can’t because he is a cry baby.  Maybe you should use a wheel chair or crutches except then you’ll say your arms are tired or hurting as well.  Maybe you should live in a bubble and wheel yourself around and use computer robots to cook for you and stuff.
    I’m just being silly.  You already knew that?  Pshh!  I titled this article in my private journal “Lemon” before I knew what it would be.  I want to brush my teeth.  The mean neighbor said “Hi” to me and my roommate when we passed him only because he wanted to look good in front of his lady friend.  He is usually so grouchy and always yelling at us to stop playing baseball in our yard or to get off the edge of his lawn and sit in the street instead while trying to get reception which comes only around that area.  Idiot.