Freeform Friday. You're in trouble today, people. I had 4 shots of espresso before 9:00 AM. Mainly because I was up all night sottering electrical wires and snorting paint thinner.
The candy surrounds me. Just say no.
One of my coworkers went to Orlando for the week and I just asked him how Mickey Mouse was. He says, "Pretty fascist, but…"
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Notes from my Interstate Archive, transcribed for your reading pleasure:
- (Too busy for fruit?)
- Another stunning retort from Ruby while sitting at my kitchen table reading the Photoshop 7 manual: "I'm all for selecting the gull, but…"
- Ass sticking out in traffic now, a stolen cigarette, the torn-up Allston skyline, buildings and dreams in the making, reality and pasts in the breaking. No connections to these new sidewalks, my two feet. Only the broken dawn trembling home with no money for the bus.
- Sometimes when I'm on the escalator and people in front of me have little pockets in their bags or backpacks, I want to unzip them. Is that so wrong?
- Singing about fall via All-Time Quarterback, it's so perfect as September crawls out of August, snarling behind its haunches at the month that thinks it's the shit. August's ego needs a fucking reality check. Running around all "better-than" and flamboyant, the only month that gets away with not having to host a National Holiday. WTF????
- "I don't know what's worse, getting blown up in a nuclear war or having a Starbucks on every corner."
- Graffiti over toilet in Someday Café: "Matt, just piss and get the hell out. -God"
- He loves her. He paints her nails while she's dying and changes her oxygen tanks without asking.
- Ruby dedicated a song to me on her half-watt radio show. She played it even though she knew I'd never hear it. Dedicated it to the girl going under the knife today. I wonder how many of us make long distance dedications that the other person never hears. I do it a million times a day.
- What would Richard do with the girl who doesn't trust magicians? Would it be like the girl who falls in love with the violinist but hates classical music? The blind woman who marries the painter?
- Writing in a dimly lit, half-empty bar. Moth in the spotlight. Red lights on oak, the Burren on a Tuesday night, the smell of quality beer. One looking too much like one's brother in a dimly lit, half-empty bar could be dangerous. Funny I think of him most when his blood flows too closely in the room. But what is too close? His blood is never close enough, too far away to carry my oxygen, when I want to inhale him and have him fill my lungs, half of him in each, to hold inside me again -- if just for one breath.
- As a diversion, think of the other J's -- with the porcupine prickly-topped, soft-nut treat inside. Like nougat. Fluffy on the tongue, daisy-skinned and weightless. Ruby: "Maybe we should wrestle him to the ground and tickle him with pink feathers."
- I wish I was left-handed. I was thinking at one point of cultivating a certain ambidextrosity.
- I always drink from a glass without picking it up from the table. I'm protective of my straws. What does that say about me?
Drive-by cigarette snuffing.
- 13-year-old boy eating a toasted bagel with classic plain cream cheese -- the saddest thing I've ever seen, on this rainy Monday night bus. He enjoys it sullenly, sandwich-style.
- You make me burn a little brighter.
October 1st - 30th, 2003
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Happy Halloween, my friends.
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