the more or less fine debris of rocks

today my siblings and i drove to the city of oceanness and sat in the sand in the sun.

...we drove to the city of oceanness blasting elephant and get behind me satan all the way.

(confession #1: i have a soft spot for the white stripes.)

know what feels good? i know you know:

lying in the sand on a towel, looking up at the sun with your eyes closed--glowing goldenly, comfortably, you can almost see it through your eyelids--and listening to sufjan's "the transfiguration" on repeat with the muffled shhhhshshhing of waves in the background.

that feels good.

and then, once your front is satisfyingly sunny, flipping over onto your stomach to peruse the sweet words of jane austen.

mmh.

pretty much.

milkshakes don't hurt things either. (confession #2: addicted.)

and just so y'all know, if you ever plan on displaying an enormous, rather permanent advertisement on the side of a highly renowned building, you really ought to forget common grammar.

it took me a minute to figure out what they were even trying to say. "thrasher's go's better with pepsi." am i missing something? what is this, a joke? okay. okay, i'm officially embarrassed for each and every poor soul involved in the creation of that particular advertisement. please note--i'm not trying to say i know everything about grammar...you know. i just think people ought to be able to place four small letters together and come up with the word "goes" without too much difficulty. sticklers unite! (here i give a weak chuckle, which fizzles into nothingness at the looks of disgust--or is it pity?--cast upon me by those of you whom i annoy so very very much...)

...but in any case, there was a photo booth in the immediate vicinity in which to dispell the grim prospects of the future of american grammar (it's looking bleak, dears, lookin' bleak).