Friday, April 27, 2007
Tonight is Friday night. Tonight, I stay in. Parties abound, but tonight I would rather stay in and drink three-day-old sour wine with my cat and Andrew Bird and Craig Thompson to keep me company. Cormac McCarthy is by my side as well, keeping a sketchy eye on me. Keeping me company. I drift. Thinking about the lovely boys and girls. I have loved a handful of times, quite sincerely I would be so richeous as to declare to myself. I then think to myself I have only been in love, been loved once, I think. This is what I say to myself. I shake my head violently causing my braids to fall to pieces, get out get out you nasty thoughts. I look like a crazy person I think to myself. Matter it does not, no one is here to witness, I fill my cup once again and drain it just as quickly. The quick and the dead. I once heard that the quick is actually a reference to the part of the fingernail, I don't remember whom or how, I just remember the quick of the fingernail. A lovely part of the body. Exoskeleton like in its nature. A thin delicate structure. I miss James I think to myself. I do not I do not. I miss the idea I tell myself, it would not have worked out I say, this is for the best. I miss Brian oh my Brian how I miss him. But I do not because he has not gone anywhere. Katie had such lovely delicate legs, I think, I wish I was close to them, then I think I cannot trust such legs. But I miss I miss I miss. To pine is to live, I think. Why is Livia so many miles away from me? My wine tastes horrible, it wasn't good the first day I opened it, a symptom of 3-dollar wine. How is it that one gets to be as dreamy as Andrew Bird? As long as he does not cease his singing. Oh my love, Andrew Bird. I really need to stop biting at the tip of my right thumb, it now has a sizable dent, or hole if you will. It is a disgusting habit, unladylike. I have many bad habits. Regardless I feel soft and lovely. If I were someone else I would want to hold me, touch my collarbone which protrudes significantly. Maybe not significantly, but considering the pillowiness of my chest, then yes, significantly. Sometimes it is nice to hide from the world and think. Not really about anything so profound, just things we avoid from day to day, that I avoid day to day. I can see my own eyelashes all of the time and it has always bothered me, unless I am looking at the sun and they look like stars. I used to think my Mexican brother looked like Snuffleufagus because his eyelashes were thick and long and hung straight down. Jake Yuzna just texted me about a recent wave of excitement he had about me moving to New York to be with him and Anti-Cinema will rise again! He says we will do coke off of trannies in the back of cabs. I hope we can listen to Andrew Bird while doing that. Enough enough enough . . .