I Have this Insane Craving for Cotton Candy.

This is weird, because I don't even like cotton candy. I used to like making it when I was a kid. I had a cotton candy maker. It was fun to see the pink sugar crystallize into the threads along the inside walls of the blue rotunda-shaped machine that made a noise like an old-fashioned hair dryer. I made it with my babysitter Jeannie D. Jeannie, are you alive? You were a cool child of the seventies. You ran with the wrong but sexy guys. You got it on on your front lawn one summer night with Chuck. All your sisters hated you because they were jealous of you and how you didn't give a fuck. You were one of those natural beauties that so many girls hate. The effortless type. And you never got pregnant! That was something too. You knew how to talk to people. Men. Women. Young. Old. I think you were an adult from the age of ten or so. And you didn't fuck a single one of my brothers which shows you had good taste. I think you came close though. But your sister. She did. If you read this you are going to hate me. Don't hate me. I love you. I remember how sexy you were. Those jeans. Somebody should make a movie about you. The summer when you were fifteen. Why am I craving cotton candy. It must mean somebody is going to die or something. This would definitely be categorized as "pica" because this is not something I would ordinarily eat and they only sell it at like Walmart. How festive. Your little sister Amy was one of my good friends. They called her Woodstock because she and I were always running around together. She was a nice kid.