hmmm.
I was tempted to just copy paste this little thing I wrote a few days ago. I wrote to a so called "friend" of mine who is in the habit of snubbing me when someone more interesting is in the vicinity. i wrote it as if i was writing to los angeles.

gahh. fine, i'll paste it in.

Dear Los Angeles,
I would have thought, seeing as our mutual friend is so kind and selfless, that you would be much of the same. Therefore, it was painful to realize my error in judgment. Your flashing lights, Los Angeles, entranced me. But, what are you without your flashing lights, your colors, tes vêtements? Industrial desert. Gentleman’s clubs. Cheap motels and rotting bungalows. You have few redeeming qualities Los Angeles, and the few you do you save for your “real friends”. I have tried to understand these “real friends”, and I am in no place to judge them, but, honestly, what have they done for you? Throw cigarette butts out their windows on your freeways; chase the well to do with cameras? Are these really good influences, Los Angeles? When I go to school I see smog over your hills. Is this your choice in vices, or the coercion of those you consider your “real friends”? What makes a “real friend” for you, Los Angeles? If I am to be one of these people you hold in such esteem, am I required to pollute my body like you’ve polluted your mountains? Have I no other alternative but to get drunk with you, smoke with you, to gain your love and constant attention? When I am alone with you, Los Angeles, it seems, you are the person I think so highly of. I sit in Huntington Gardens and forgive you every wrong you’ve done, watching the ducks.
But these times are fleeting. Within moments of your friend’s arrival you have snubbed me, totally and utterly, and I am alone with the lights of the valley.
Which is why I must tell you, Los Angeles, tease me no longer. I am not your best friend, good friend, or anything of the sort, and you cannot tell it is true, for you are lying. You’re lying with your trendy clubs, your fancy stores, your high rises. And the day it all disintegrates I hope to be far away from you. I could not bear to see your final gasp, Los Angeles, for I have seen it in my dreams too many times. You’ve never left this valley of your self-absorption, Los Angeles. You’re trapped. You’re tied down with your subways and sewer lines and you think you’re on top of the world. I know better than to hope you will see what you do to me, Los Angeles. I will wait no longer.

Best Wishes,
Niko

AHHHSUPEREXCITINGNEWS
so, this play i wrote.
setting: lake otsego, new york state (near cooperstown. anyone been here? it's gorgeous.)
some time in either the 1930's or a little earlier.

characters:
Robert, a banker in his early thirties, in the midst of a very public divorce.
Lily, his sister. A 20 year old, engaged to handsome George Mason.
Harry, their brother. An artist attending an ivy league boy's college.
George, Lily's fiancé. The heir of a substantial fortune.
Sam Greeve, his good friend. Sam is condescending and formal. Secretly hugely jealous of George. In love with Lily.

I probably just made it sound completely retarded. But it might be staged and everything, I'm super excited! I started writing it in 7th grade and god knows i couldn't even imagine it getting to where it is now. I've grown so much (mentally and physically), and the play has grown too.
I think I will call it "On the Lake", a title my drama teacher suggested.

oh, and it's a ghost story.
:]