couch with victoria.

I woke up this morning with a bug bite on my hand - A stark red line across blue veins and bones. When I was 7 I was convinced that the 'W' etched in blue underneath the skin on my right hand held some certain evidence of past life initials. maybe a william. and even more telling - the 'H' spelled out on my left hand - both squarely fit the middle of my hands when I balled my fists. 'Herbert Williams'. I had broken some past life Encyclopedia Brown contest, and I of course, now possessed psychic abilities beyond my control. I never thought this to be true until tonight, when I had the sudden "urge" to buy a scratch ticket and won 12 dollars off of a 2 dollar ticket. hot damn!

I am obsessed with Townes Van Zandt. In particular "Nothin'".

I let some guy into my apartment building as I stumbled through the door with my cheap Ikea wine glasses - he winked, called me little lassy, and begged me to come up to his apartment. I live on the fourth floor - he bellowed from the stairwell. He must have been 70. He sounded really desperate for me to come with him and it scared the shit out of me.

In other news, my sister sent me some socks from New Zealand. Made out of Kiwi fruit hair and Mongoose fur.

i am not lying when i say that i am a huge tom petty fan.

my birthday this year was a good one.

so maybe it was a bad idea to go to Ikea on the one day that there was no sales tax. In the aftermath of post shopping - Victoria came up with a new stimulant lexicon: anger sauce = caffeine. sugar = bitch sprinkles/crystals.

and yes, the red sox won the first game of the world series.

and karaoke was brillant. especially renditions of 'close to you' and 'kiss me deadly'. There are some supposed duets i do not remember. namely 'voices carry'.

my whisky legs need some work.

In particular I remember waiting at the greyhound bus station.

I was on my way to ohio – an internet love I hadn’t met yet. I sat on the bus for 26 hours – at three in the morning the man who sat next to me bought me a popsicle at a pennsylvania truck stop - which I refused. he was so solemn and threw it away – I really do wish I had taken that popsicle. I think it was lime green - the wrapper hinting at its half-thawed florescent belly.

there was a snow storm in columbus – the drifts 20 feet high. we rolled around in your bed – despite your roomates perpetual perch on AOL Instant Messenger. it must have been ’98. a rumor circulated that two girls had been fucking in the showers.

There was a dance party at some point – it’s strange to see someone dance for the first time.

you told me you loved me in the dorm basement – on a green couch with cigarette holes through both sides of the cushions. I said the same – but knew I didn’t know you – had no idea how to piece together my conflicting emotions across stale basement air. at 18, I couldn’t make any sort of decision without primarily considering who else was affected.I had no idea how to be that selfish.

we had talked since highschool – two dykes that didn’t know any other queer folks – trying to come out in different ways. our main focus was the way we would be able to change ourselves when we were out of highschool. how we could be safe.. we made each other mix tapes and talked about the books we read. I watched you played drums – you listened to the songs I wrote – we tried to make our lives together exhilarating and real.

I’ve been thinking about you a lot tonight.

and I know in many ways we don’t know each other at all –
how important we were to each other then…

noah - I hope you’re doing well.

fog

the tin crackle of your old computer stereo speakers.

I can see you pursing your lips
following me across the gravel driveway.

the liquor cabinet half-full
of old crow -
squeezing toothpaste into finite lines that fold
into our scuffed toothbrushes.

at any moment all I need is a clear head.