Day: April 22, 2005

It fit yesterday as a second skin that just when I arrange to wander out of doors with Patti is when I remember that I was to call Shane. Futility squared, that thought. I imagine that it’s likely better that I see him later, after this tainted bloody thinking drains from my body. He would have too much fun running with it. He used to call me the Ice-Queen, now he introduces me as the heart-breaker, the lost love. A girl took it seriously a few months ago and stopped me on the street later, “I couldn’t help overhearing…” Earnest in a denim hipster skirt kind of way, her questions trimmed in pretty little girl lace. The joke is spreading, I’ve been spending time with a completely other group of people lately who as well decided I must be told that I’m attractive whenever they write anything down.

Tonight Ian and Andrew and I are taking Robin to Kung-Fu Hustle. (Andrew – this link is for you.) Granville 7 at 9:35 for anyone who’d like to tag along. We’ll have a vehicle and can give rides home after as if to flick the finger at our newly discovered summer weather as unexpected as whale fossils in desert Egypt.

Silk and fathers, go to bed, love. No I’m not, it’s time for me to go, but not now, no, not now but yesterday, last night, I’m putting on my coat and realize his eyes are open when his voice darts from the darkness to ask what I’m doing. “I’m going out.” “Where?” I don’t know, there’s no reason to know, it doesn’t particularly matter. I’ve cut off my places to drop by partially for you and part for me. Across the street is a park to sit in with damp green grass and messy playground love waiting without swings to let me cry on the plastic slide’s knees. Farther up is a house I used to throw rocks at, farther up is an apartment I grew up in. My father hung me out the window once, it was hot out, the sun blinded me from my ankles down. He and I would look so sweet together, still now I’m sure there’s a resemblance. The body and blood, they scream to each other. I want this, but it’s bringing me flames. My flesh is crackling, skin black and splitting at the merest mention of everything I’m trying to keep away. I’m not as strong as I could have been, my resistance goes down when I like you. There’s prior damage, neglect and poisonous accusations every night for dinner over books we’d both read. This is the History Of A.I.D.S., the biography of WWII, this is paper pages too thick to throw anymore. I didn’t go walking. I didn’t find a cold moon staring at me through gaps in the darkness. I didn’t pause halfway through a gravel field and look out over the city and decide to never come back. There is a chance still for a waltz to save me. There’s a hand reaching to sweep me into skirts and out of them. Now I have to remember your name.

Thank you for the picture. This is a listing of every MP3 that Amazon.com has for download and this is a stunningly stylish animated Ramayana, one of my favourite books.